


Bothered

by wheel_pen



Series: Bedeviled [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8352367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: Charles shows up at Erik’s office, having run away from school because he isn’t feeling well. Erik begins to suspect that Charles’s ailment will completely upend his schedule for the next week or so, but why should that surprise him? It’s Charles, after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe Omegas are considered adults once they go into heat; however, they may be under 18 years old when this happens.  
> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

 

_August_

Erik was in his office, reviewing the agenda Darla had given him for the meeting that was taking place in just a few minutes, when suddenly the intercom light on his phone lit up red in warning. “ _Charles!_ ” Darla greeted in the outer office, and Erik’s eyes widened. “ _Hello, how are you?_ ”

Charles was polite, at least, and could not ignore a greeting. “ _Hello, Darla. Fine, thank you_.” This gave Erik time to scramble up from his desk and stomp over to the door.

“He’s just preparing for a meeting—“ Darla was saying as Erik yanked the door open.

“Charles, what the h—l are you doing here?” he demanded of the teen. Charles was in his school uniform and carrying his backpack; he looked a bit pale and tired, though, and Erik took his arm to pull him inside his office.

“Erik!” Charles promptly hugged him, snuggling against the Alpha like he hadn’t seen him in weeks, and Erik kicked the door shut. “I _rode the bus_ to get here,” he added, in a tone other people might use for riding a unicorn. Normally Charles was safely chauffeured to and from school.

Erik took his upper arms and pushed him back so he could see his face. “It’s twelve-thirty,” he pointed out. “You’re supposed to be in school.” Or if they got out early for some reason Erik forgot, then at home.

“I didn’t _want_ to stay at school, Erik,” Charles admitted freely, his hands grasping futilely for the Alpha. “I wanted to see you!”

“Are you sick?” Erik worried, feeling his forehead. He did seem a bit warm. “You should’ve called Arturo to take you home.” Charles embraced Erik again as soon as he was able and Erik staggered slightly under his affection. “Why did you ride the bus? Did you lose your cell phone again?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Charles promised. He seemed content to stand there cuddling Erik for all eternity, and the Alpha found it difficult to maintain his ire.

But he really tried. “Charles, you can’t stay here, I have a meeting,” Erik tried.

Charles yawned suddenly, red lips parting for his pink tongue to snake out. “That’s okay, I’ll wait here,” he decided cheerfully.

“No, the meeting’s _in_ here,” Erik corrected. The conference table off to the side was already laid out with agendas and pens. Nevertheless he stroked Charles’s back comfortingly.

“I’ll just lie on the couch,” Charles suggested, though he made no move to do so. “I’ll be so quiet, you won’t even notice me.”

“How the f—k would I not notice you?” Erik asked him. He was _Charles_. Erik could track him through a crowd (and had). Charles just yawned again and made himself comfortable against Erik.

Obviously, serious measures were called for. “Go lie down,” Erik ordered, detaching Charles from him. The teen went without protest, flopping down on Erik’s couch, loose-limbed and permanent. Erik turned and opened his office door. “Darla, find me another room for this meeting,” he told her, and shut the door again. When he turned around he saw that Charles’s bag, jacket, and shoes had gotten scattered all across his office somehow, and he started moving them out of the way.

“Did you at least _tell_ someone at school you were going home sick?” Erik asked, checking his forehead again.

“I’m not sick, Erik!” Charles whined, which sounded normal anyway. “I just didn’t want to be at school anymore. It’s so boring and there’s so many people!” Erik frowned; Charles usually _loved_ people, _and_ school. “I just wanted to be with you.” He grabbed Erik’s arm and rubbed his nose against it. “Mmm, your jacket smells like you,” he declared.

Erik did not have time for Charles to go insane right now, which was probably why he was doing so. “Did you have lunch at school?” he asked, as Charles played with his fingers. “Do you want me to order you something?”

Charles screwed up his pretty face. “No, I’m not hungry!” he insisted hotly, like Erik was trying to force-feed him.

“J---s, Schatzi, calm down,” Erik advised, brushing his hair away from his face. “Are you upset about something?” That was a common reason for Charles to lose his appetite.

“I’m just not hungry!” Charles repeated in a pout, trying to roll over and put his back to Erik, like a sulking cat.

Before Erik could answer there was a knock on his door and it started to open. “Am I late or—“

“Did I say to come in?” Erik snapped at the man, who quickly backed out and shut the door.

Charles looked back over his shoulder with interest. “Were you just terribly rude?” he asked with amusement, no longer pouting.

Erik rolled his eyes and stood, straightening his tie. “No, it’s just Alan.” Who was also an Alpha, and should know better than to barge into another Alpha’s territory. Sadly Alan often _didn’t_ know better. There was another knock, more timid. “Come in,” Erik allowed, and this time Alan entered with a little more deference.

“Sorry, I was just—“ He started out looking towards the conference table, but his gaze was drawn towards Charles like a magnet. Fortunately the teen had popped up and made himself look more presentable, with a big, sunny smile that Erik really didn’t like to see directed at someone else. Part of Erik wanted to tell Alan to mind his own f-----g business, but another part said he should probably explain why he had a shoeless schoolboy in his office, before Alan drew his own conclusions.

Although Erik didn’t really know _why_ himself yet.

“Alan, this is my Omega, Charles,” Erik introduced briskly.

“Hello—“ Their hands reached out to shake.

“Don’t touch him,” Erik ordered, thinking this should be obvious. Alan backed off and Charles merely waved from the other side of Erik. “Is Darla out there? She’s looking for a new room for the meeting. Pick up your agenda.”

“So nice to meet you, Alan,” Charles persisted politely. “What department are you in?”

Alan glanced at Erik first, receiving permission to reply. “Structural Mechanics,” he finally said, keeping his distance.

“Oh, that’s terribly important,” Charles complimented. “No one really appreciates the structural underpinnings of a building, do they?” he added thoughtfully. “Of course, without you, it would collapse completely!”

Alan warmed to this positive depiction of his profession—people couldn’t help but warm to Charles, Erik found it fascinating to watch. Sometimes.

Another knock interrupted Alan’s reply. “Come in!” Erik called, and a dark-skinned man looked in. “We’re running late, Darla’s finding us another room.”

“Oh, okay,” he agreed, entering.

“Omar, this is my Omega, Charles,” Erik introduced, and said nothing as they shook hands. Omar was an Omega and thus not a threat to Charles.

Not that Alan was a threat, Erik didn’t employ people who were _threatening_. He decided to blame that stray thought on Charles showing up unexpectedly, where he _should not be_. Reason still unknown. Charles at least stayed close to Erik, one arm wrapped around his and standing a couple inches back, more deferential than usual. It would be nice if he was trying to be demure so as not to reflect badly on Erik, but Erik didn’t think Charles’s mind worked that way.

Omar had left Erik’s office door open and the conversation was cut short as a new person burst in without knocking. “Why, that’s not little Charles, is it?” boomed a deep voice, and Charles, the little traitor, actually left Erik’s side to embrace the white-haired man.

“Uncle Peter!” he exclaimed happily. Erik forcibly stilled himself to keep from intervening, wondering what the h—l was wrong with him today. Peter might be an Alpha, but he was a trusted friend of the family, a Board member, and had known Charles since the bonding ceremony.

“Boy, you’ve grown about a foot since I saw you last,” Peter claimed. “Wish I had a peppermint to give you. Did you and Erik have lunch?”

“I’m skipping school!” Charles confessed gleefully. “Aren’t I _wicked_?”

Darla marched in. “Room 4312,” she told Erik, handing him a post-it note, and went to collect the remaining meeting accessories.

“Thank you,” he responded. “4312, go ahead, I’ll catch up,” he added to Alan and Omar.

Peter and Charles were still reminiscing. “—out to the lake sometime, if you can get this guy to take a weekend off,” Peter suggested, nodding at Erik.

“Will Annie make that _wonderful_ almond cake?” Charles asked, doing a good impression of someone who wanted to eat.

“I’ll tell her you asked—“

“4312,” Erik repeated to Peter, slightly more polite. “I’ll be right there.”

“Nice to see you again, Charles,” Peter told the Omega as he left.

“You, too, Uncle Peter!” Charles sighed as they were left alone. “I miss Uncle Peter and Aunt Annie. We haven’t seen them in forever!”

“We’ll get together with them soon,” Erik promised vaguely. It had been a busy summer at work. Charles bounced back over to him and hugged Erik again, and Erik draped his arms loosely around the teen. “You will stay in this room,” he ordered. “Except you can go to the bathroom, but that’s it. Don’t touch anything, don’t talk to anyone. Leave my computer alone.”

Charles yawned once more. “I’m just going to take a nap,” he claimed. “Can I have your jacket?”

“What? No,” Erik denied.

“But Erik!” Charles whined immediately. “It smells like you! I want to keep it!”

Erik wanted to tell Charles he was being irrational, but that never ended well. Instead he sent Charles back to the couch, grumbling, and went to his cabinet where he kept extra shirts in case he spilled coffee on himself. He also kept his gym clothes in there, for when he worked out over lunch (absent critical lunch meetings, like the one he was missing right now), and with a slight hesitation, pulled out his sweatshirt.

To Erik, it smelled like a sweatshirt that needed to be laundered. When he dropped it on Charles, however, the Omega reacted like Erik had just given him a kitten. “Oh, this is _so_ nice, Erik!” Charles exclaimed, pulling it on right over his shirt (which hopefully he wouldn’t do with a kitten). He snuffled into it blissfully, which only strengthened the suspicion that was growing in Erik’s mind.

He couldn’t neglect his duties, though. “Stay here,” he reminded Charles. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

**

An hour later Erik opened his office door with some trepidation, half-expecting to see it trashed; miraculously, it seemed that nothing had been moved, including Charles, who was still curled up on the couch.

“Schatzi?” Erik checked softly. “Are you awake?”

Charles whined pitifully and opened his eyes. “Erik, I’m so thirsty!” he complained, rubbing his eyes blearily. “I’m too warm!” He would not relinquish Erik’s sweatshirt, however.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Erik assured him, heading for his mini-fridge. He brought back a VitaminWater for the teen and cracked the seal for him. “How else do you feel? Are you hungry yet?”

“No!” Charles denied vehemently, guzzling his drink. “Stop pushing food on me!”

Erik had done a little googling during the boring parts of the meeting and had a theory to test. “Sit up more, I want to talk to you—“

“Can I go to the bathroom first?” Charles cut in.

There was only one right answer to that. “Sure. Put your shoes on first,” Erik added sternly.

“Erik! It’s only the bathroom, not Grand Central!” Charles protested.

“Exactly,” Erik asserted. “Put your shoes on, they’re right there.” He opened his office door. “Darla, would you mind following Charles to the bathroom—“

“Oh my G-d, Erik!” Charles shouted indignantly.

“—to make sure he doesn’t get lost,” Erik finished to his assistant, expertly ignoring Charles. As a Beta female she and Charles used the same restroom, though of course she didn’t actually have to go _in_.

“I know where it is!”

“Thank you, Darla,” Erik added, as Charles pushed past him rudely. He was wearing shoes, though, and Darla followed him as requested.

A few minutes later they returned, chatting amiably, and Charles kicked off his shoes and lay down on the couch again. Erik went out to Darla’s desk and shut his office door.

“How does the rest of the week look?” he asked her, and she pulled up his calendar. “Next week?” He grimaced slightly at the results. “I might be out,” he admitted, watching her reaction.

She raised an eyebrow but otherwise remained calm. “Starting when?”

“Tomorrow,” Erik predicted. “Maybe I could come in tomorrow morning and wrap a few things up.”

“And when will you be back?” she asked, taking notes.

“Next Thursday, maybe,” he hedged. “Keep Thursday and Friday light.” They both peered at his busy schedule. “Push off what you can.”

“Can you do a conference call?” she asked hopefully.

Erik took a moment to picture that. “No.”

“Email?”

“Assume I’ll be incommunicado,” he instructed. “I’ll inform the Board. Margery can lead this meeting,” he decided, looking at one thing that couldn’t be postponed. “I’ll let her know. Anything that can’t be moved—I won’t be there,” Erik shrugged. He was in triage mode now and unfortunately, very little could be saved. “Send me a list by the end of the day so I can tell people.” He wasn’t going to stick Darla with the unpleasant duty of officially telling people the CEO would no longer be attending their presentation (though he expected some of them would be relieved).

Darla was too professional to ask _why_ Erik would be gone. He didn’t mean for it to be a secret, but he wanted to talk to Charles first. Leaving her to her sudden urgent work, he went back into his office and shut the door, locking it discreetly behind him. Then he moved Charles’s shoes out of the way (again). _Then_ he sat down on the end of the couch.

“Charles?” he prompted. “Can you sit up and talk to me?” He shook his leg a little.

Heaving a monumental sigh the teen sat up, curling his legs under himself. He assumed he was in trouble and made only darting, guilty glances at Erik’s face.

“You want to tell me what happened at school today?” Erik began casually. He tried to remember back to this morning—Charles might’ve been a little moody and sluggish, but that wasn’t unusual.

“I just didn’t want to be there anymore,” Charles tried to explain. He stroked Erik’s hand that rested on the couch between them. “Everything was boring, I couldn’t concentrate. I just kept thinking about you and wanted to see you,” he finished in a small voice.

“You kept thinking about me, huh?” Erik repeated with interest, and Charles looked up hopefully. “I think about you a lot, too,” he admitted, loosening his tie.

“Do you, Erik?” Charles asked. He sounded slightly surprised, which Erik didn’t like to hear—he thought it should be obvious.

“I do. Come here.” Erik encouraged Charles closer, into his arms, and started by lightly brushing his lips with his own. Charles moaned and pressed in, his hands sliding up Erik’s chest under his jacket, gripping his shoulders to get better leverage. Erik deepened the kiss, a hand in Charles’s hair tilting his head to the angle he wanted, and he pulled the teen even closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

It would have been so easy for Erik to lose himself right now, as he slid his mouth across Charles’s jaw and down his neck, teeth scraping at the delicate skin just enough to draw a pleasurable gasp from the Omega. But Erik had to stay focused. His hand wandered from Charles’s waist to his hip and down his thigh, then slipped in between his legs, dangerous territory.

“Erik,” Charles breathed sharply, spreading his thighs obligingly. “Erik, I thought you said we couldn’t have sex in your office?”

“We can’t,” Erik agreed, pulling his hand abruptly away from the moist heat.

Charles’s eyes widened and he prepared to squawk at Erik teasing him. Then he saw that Erik was _sniffing_ his fingers, and it was all just too much for the Omega. With a groan he wilted against his Alpha.

Erik rubbed his back companionably. “Relax,” he advised. “In a couple of days you’re going to have all the sex you could want.” Work concerns aside, Erik was beginning to look forward to it as well.

“What?” Charles asked in confusion, his brain too fried to think.

“You’re going into heat,” Erik diagnosed, certain of it now. “Late tomorrow, the next day maybe.”

“No,” Charles denied slowly. “No, it’s not time yet, it’s not ‘til next month—“

Erik tried to relax back against the couch, encouraging Charles to do the same. “Yes, I don’t know why I thought you would be regular,” he reflected, feeling unusually calm. Probably hormones, those were good to blame. “You’ve never made things easy on me before, why would you start now?” He really should have expected this, he thought.

Charles snuggled against him absently, still struggling to comprehend. “But—I have school,” he pointed out dully. “And you have work.”

“It’ll wait.” There was almost nothing that couldn’t be put off if one’s Omega went into heat, legally speaking. Although these days, heat suppressants could be used safely, if you wanted to go that route. But they didn’t.

Erik placed a kiss on Charles’s hair, enjoying being close to him for a few minutes. Sometimes it seemed like the time they spent together was too scheduled—they had to combine it with something else, like watching a movie or moving furniture. Just sitting quietly, cuddling, seemed very indulgent.

“Well, maybe you’re wrong,” Charles suggested, sacrilegiously. “How do you _know_?”

“The symptoms fit,” Erik explained. “Moodiness, fatigue, taking comfort from my scent”—Charles stopped nuzzling his neck self-consciously—“lack of appetite, increased temperature. Plus, you smell d—n good,” he added, sniffing his fingers again. “And _that_ wouldn’t happen with the flu.” There were other physical signs of pre-heat, but Erik wasn’t in a position to assess them. “What do you think, Schatzi?” he asked. “Plausible?”

Charles squirmed until he was lying down, with his head on Erik’s leg and his knees drawn up under his chin. “Yes, I suppose,” he agreed grudgingly. “I feel sort of… crampy and icky.”

Erik brushed his hair with his fingers. “Is that how you felt before?” Charles had only one other point of comparison.

“No, I felt horrible before,” Charles described, his tone taking on a whine, “and I don’t feel _horrible_ now, just crampy and icky and too warm and I can’t think straight!”

“I wish you hadn’t taken the bus, I’m amazed you made it here,” Erik remarked. “Next time just call me. Or Arturo or Mrs. Malloy or—“ He broke off when he heard sniffling. “Charles?”

“I’m sorry!” Charles said miserably, voice thick with tears.

“What for?”

“I keep messing everything up!” he sobbed. “You’re busy and I’m early and now you have to stop—“

Erik’s mother would say something soothing to Charles at this point. But Erik was not his mother. “Stop crying,” he instructed Charles. “You’ll ruin my suit.”

Charles hiccupped, distracted by almost laughing at the callous comment. “Be sorry about how you leave every room a disaster area,” Erik continued. “That’s something you can help. Don’t be sorry about this.” He brushed Charles’s hair back from his face, combing the strands idly.

Charles sniffed again, wetly, and wiped his nose on Erik’s sweatshirt. Then he turned a little so he was more on his back. “I don’t think I got your trousers wet,” he judged.

“Good, I just got them back from the dry cleaner’s.” Erik rubbed Charles’s chest lightly. “You feel better?”

“No, I still have all the same problems I had thirty seconds ago, Erik!” Charles pouted. “Nothing has been fixed yet! How are you going to fix things?”

Erik smirked at his faith. “Well, if you will lie here quietly, I will go start fixing things,” he proposed. “If you’re going to bug me, I will send you home.”

Charles clutched at Erik’s hand suddenly, fingernails digging in. “Erik! How am I going to get home?”

Erik kept his hand very still, hoping to reduce the damage. “You’ll get home with me,” he replied, which he thought should be obvious. “Arturo will drive us. Did you think I was going to make you walk?”

“I can’t go _outside_ , Erik!” Charles sat up, kneeling on the couch again, and transferred his desperate grip to Erik’s arm. “I’m in heat, Alphas will smell me and try to grab me—“

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to head off the visceral reaction this imagery evoked. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he told Charles with irritation. “You’re not even _in_ heat yet. And you’ll be in the car. Arturo’s a Beta, he doesn’t care.” The man was trusted to take Charles to school, after all.

“But Erik—“

“You were in the hospital in heat, we took the car up to the house—“

“I know, don’t remind me!” Charles insisted with distress. “I don’t want to think about that!”

“Come here. Come on.” With a little prodding Charles burrowed into Erik again. “Deep breath. Calm down. Nothing’s going to happen to you, Schatzi,” Erik promised, rubbing his back. Charles was normally very _incautious_ about other Alphas; but his brain was being flooded with chemicals right now. “I will be with you, to look after you. That’s my job.”

“What if—what if,” Charles began tremulously, which never ended well, “what if I get as sick as I did last time? What if I can’t remember things? Don’t tell me you don’t worry about it!” he added sharply, before Erik could dismiss anything.

Erik _did_ worry about that. He still had days when he woke up anxious that Charles wouldn’t remember him, and looked for signs that his Omega was still in his right mind. He understood this was not rational, though, and tried not to inflict his fears on anyone else.

“Okay,” he said, petting Charles soothingly. “If you get sick, I will take you to the doctor. If you can’t remember anything—and that was from a drug interaction, not just heat—I will take care of you until your memory comes back. I’ll be nicer to you,” he added with a smirk, “having been through it once before.”

“But what if—“

Erik cut him off. “Charles, no matter what happens, I will take care of you,” he stated simply. “Do you trust me to do that properly?”

“Yes, Erik,” Charles answered. It was, in a sense, what he _had_ to say at this point; but Erik liked to think he was sincere. Erik felt he had a strong track record to look back on, anyway.

“So if you keep telling me what you need or what you’re feeling,” Erik went on, “then I can keep taking care of you. Okay?”

“Okay, Erik,” Charles agreed, this time with more contentment. He started to snuggle in more, and as much as Erik wanted to relax and enjoy it, he knew he had tasks to accomplish.

“So do you want to stay here with me for the rest of the day, or do you want to go home?” Erik asked. “Mrs. Malloy can look after you at home, you’ll be safe and comfortable—“

“I want to stay here with _you_ , Erik!” Somehow Erik was not surprised.

“Okay, but you have to be _quiet_ , so I can get some work done,” Erik warned. “Are you going back to sleep?” Regretfully he pried himself loose from Charles and stood, straightening his clothes.

“I don’t know,” Charles replied in a restless tone, turning around on the couch. “I’m too tired to sleep!”

Erik rolled his eyes at that nonsense. “Do you have your phone?” he checked. “Why don’t you watch your fish movie? With headphones.”

“It’s called _Finding Nemo_ , Erik!”

“Whatever.” It always put _him_ right out.

“Well, okay,” Charles decided, squirming around to reach his bag. “Can I have something else to drink, Erik? I’m too warm!” There was a reason it was called _heat_ , after all.

Erik headed back to the mini-fridge. “Why don’t you take off your shirt,” he suggested, “and just wear the sweatshirt?” He pushed through the available drink selection, wondering if he could get Charles to try a protein shake. When he turned back around with it, he saw that Charles’s shirt, t-shirt, tie, and half the contents of his bookbag were now strewn around the couch like debris from a blast crater. Charles himself lay obliviously in the middle of it, waking up his phone.

“Charles. Charles!” He took his headphones out with a questioning look. “Watch what I’m doing for a minute,” Erik instructed. “Just watch.” He picked up the teen’s discarded clothing and draped it neatly over the chair that already contained his jacket. Then he knelt and piled up books, notebooks, loose papers, folders, a calculator, and whatever other c—p had tumbled from Charles’s bag, pushing the stack out of the way by the end of the couch. Then Erik stood. “There. Did you see what I did?” he prompted, trying not to be obnoxious.

Charles blinked at him. “Why were you carrying my drink all over the place?” he asked obtusely, holding out his hand for it.

Erik hung his head in defeat and cracked the protein shake open for the Omega. It was like Charles was literally blind to the messes he left. “Cheers!” Charles said politely as he took the drink, and gave Erik a dazzling smile, and somehow Erik’s irritation lessened. Funny how that worked.

Erik sat back down at his desk and Charles turned on his fish movie, needing a reminder about the headphones only once. He did not fuss about the protein shake, though Erik saw him grimace as he tasted it, and examine the can. He did not reject it, however, and Erik settled into communicating this new twist in his life to the people who most needed to know.

First, the estate manager, informing him he had twenty-four hours (or less) to get the country house ready for occupancy. Sorry! Not really, you couldn’t expect a perfect schedule with heat retreats and that was why Erik paid the man good money. Although Charles and Erik had made it back there only twice over the summer, he’d had a mini-fridge and microwave placed in the master bedroom, more sheets and blankets stocked, the list of staple foods updated, _and_ something Erik was rather excited about—he’d bought Charles a nest-bag, with an electric blanket layer, arm holes, and built-in feet. He was keeping it as a surprise, having shipped it to the house already. But all should be set there, even a month in advance. Erik was nothing if not prepared.

Then he contacted Charles’s school. Erik was _rather_ annoyed that his Omega had been missing from there for over two hours and no one had contacted him yet—he would look up their policies later and see if he had any grounds for a formal complaint. But for right now, they just needed to know that Charles would be unavoidably absent for the next week or so. The year-round program had just recently switched classes for the new semester, so Charles probably wouldn’t get too far behind. A school for bonded Omegas was used to working around absences.

Erik emailed the Board next—personal notes to the people he liked, a generic mass message to the others. Then, key personnel who would make decisions in his absence, like Margery, who better not f—k up the meeting she was now running (direct quote). He mentioned the issue to Darla when she appeared with her list of other affected employees; as a Beta, whose immediate family was all Betas, she merely raised an eyebrow at the quirks of Alpha/Omega physiology and moved on.

Finally, his household staff and family—Mrs. Malloy and crew could have an impromptu vacation while he and Charles were gone, and Raven and his mother were promised calls later so Erik could ignore any insistent replies to his messages (well, those would be from Raven only, his mother knew how these things went).

“Erik, you’re being so Alpha over there!” Charles exclaimed admiringly, and Erik turned to see the Omega staring at him with fever-bright eyes and an adoring expression.

He smirked and shook his head. “I’m only sending emails, Schatzi,” Erik pointed out. “I’m not clubbing baby seals for you.”

“I don’t _want_ you to club baby seals for me, Erik!” Charles protested. “Why would you even do that?”

“Never mind,” Erik decided prudently. “Do you need anything?”

“Yes, I would like more to drink,” Charles requested, sitting up. “But _not_ this strange fake milkshake, please.”

“Okay,” Erik agreed, “but get used to them, you’re going to be drinking one a day as long as you won’t eat.”

“I can’t even _think_ about eating, Erik!” Charles declared. “I feel ill. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Erik could not tell if these two sentences were connected. “Is it an emergency?”

“No.”

“Then put your shoes on, and comb your hair a little,” Erik instructed, helping him. “You look like a refugee.”

“I’m sure that’s not very nice, Erik!” Charles shot back.

Erik did not care. Nor did he care about Charles’s sputtering objections as Erik followed him to the bathroom. He could see Darla was busy, and there was no way he was letting Charles roam around unsupervised, he’d learned _that_ lesson already. “I’m not going to follow you in,” he told Charles, stopping outside the restroom door. “Go if you need to.”

Charles huffed and entered, and Erik leaned against the wall and waited, because he didn’t have anything better to do with his time, he was only the CEO. Who was now getting strange looks as he was spotted lurking outside the bathrooms, which was just great.

Erik checked his watch and decided Charles had been in there too long. An Omega came by and Erik stopped her. “Karen, isn’t it?” he checked, ingratiatingly.

“Yes, Mr. Lehnsherr,” she answered timidly. An assistant’s assistant, he thought.

“My Omega, Charles, is in there,” he told her, nodding at the bathroom. “Could you make sure he’s okay?”

“Of-of course, Mr. Lehnsherr,” she agreed, ducking inside.

Karen came out a couple minutes later, alone. “He says he’s fine, Mr. Lehnsherr,” she reported, and Erik made an impatient noise. If Charles was fine he needed to come _out_. “Is he, um—“ Karen stopped, embarrassed.

“Going into heat soon? Yes,” Erik replied. “How did you guess?”

“He’s grooming,” she described. “It’s, um, typical.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Could you go back in there,” he cajoled, “and tell him to come out _now_ , please?” Dutifully Karen went back into the bathroom.

“Erik,” greeted Peter, coming around the corner, and Erik sighed, realizing that news of his loitering must have spread. “Everything okay with Charles?”

“No, he’s causing trouble for me, _again_ ,” Erik complained in a long-suffering tone. “Won’t come out of the bathroom. Grooming, or something?” Erik did not really like sharing intimate details with other people, but when his private life inconvenienced them, he felt he owed _some_ explanation.

“Oh yes, Annie used to obsessively brush her hair,” Peter recalled fondly. “Very common before heat.” He gave Erik a jovial shoulder squeeze. “Why don’t you knock off early?” he suggested cheerfully. “Take him home.”

“Is he bothering people?” Erik asked. He didn’t think the smell was strong enough to travel.

“Oh, no,” Peter assured him. “But if you’ve let everyone know, there’s not much else for you to do here.”

Erik did not agree with that, and was reluctant to leave work early. It felt wrong somehow. “I have a meeting at four,” he noted. “I’ll leave after that.” Which would be his usual time, depending on how chatty people were.

Peter shrugged. “Whatever works best for you two.” He, in contrast to Alan, knew when to back off another Alpha’s territory.

“Yes,” Erik asserted. Then he pushed open the bathroom door, revealing voices but not looking inside. “Charles, get your a-s out here _now_!”

“You see what I mean?” Charles told Karen in a dry tone, before they exited. “Nice to meet you!” he added to her as she scuttled away from the executives. “Uncle Peter! Erik’s being mean to me again! Did you hear what he said?”

Peter resisted embracing the Omega this time, catching his shoulders and giving them a delicate pat. “Now now, I’m sure Erik’s taking good care of you!” he claimed. “He’s just worried about you.”

“I suppose,” Charles agreed dubiously, shooting Erik a look that accused him of conspiracy with the other Alpha.

Erik shook his head. “Come on,” he directed, taking Charles’s shoulder. “I have work to do.”

“Well you don’t have to follow me to the bathroom,” Charles hissed at him.

“I do, actually,” Erik countered mildly. “Why _is_ that?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “I like saying hello to people, Erik!” he insisted. “I’m not _bothering_ them.”

“You wander off,” Erik rephrased, “and I don’t know where you went. So, you’re going to be followed.”

Clearly Charles felt this was very unfair, but once again, Erik didn’t care. He put the Omega back on the couch with a new bottle of VitaminWater and instructions to finish his movie. Then, Erik starting triaging his work—what did he need to approve before he left, so people could keep on working? He didn’t want to rush any decisions, but a week was a long time to be unexpectedly gone.

Did Erik have to be _completely_ incommunicado? Of course he wasn’t going to commit to a conference call—he spared another moment to be amused by that thought—but could he check email, call in with instructions? Last time they’d both been able to make phone calls during heat, but Erik wasn’t sure if that was how it always would be for them, or if the suppressants Charles had been given at the hospital were to blame. If there was the possibility Erik _could_ think about things other than Charles…

But he didn’t want to. That was the fact. Erik loved his job, he loved running the company, but this was a time when he had permission to focus solely and completely on Charles, and do other things only when he felt his Omega was content. It was a luxury for Erik, which was funny because he never would have described caring for Charles that way for most of the time he knew him—a burden maybe, not a luxury.

But times changed.

Charles made a little sniff and Erik’s eyes darted over to him. He seemed happy slurping his drink, though, the movie reflected in his eyes. Maybe Erik _should_ knock off early—No, d----t. Heat hadn’t started yet, he was going to ride out this day and possibly come in tomorrow morning as well, and tomorrow afternoon they would drive up to the country house, and Erik would have really _earned_ his treat.

**

By four o’clock Erik found himself getting into a Zen mindset, when behaviors that should have made him want to throttle Charles were met only with infinite patience. Hormones were beautiful things, why couldn’t they operate like this all the time? Except Charles’s head would explode as he tried to think of more ways to futilely push Erik’s buttons.

“I have a meeting now,” Erik informed Charles, bringing him back from the bathroom again. “What are you going to do?” Whine incoherently, apparently. “Do you have another movie to watch?”

“I don’t want to watch a movie, Erik!”

“Well, take a nap, then.”

Charles flopped down on the couch with a frustrated cry. “Can’t we go home?” he asked plaintively. “I don’t feel safe here!”

Erik would not be swayed by his cheap attempts at manipulation. “You’re perfectly safe here,” he countered. “But you can go home whenever you like, I’ll be there around 6:30 like usual.” Charles made another grumpy noise; he did not want to be separated from Erik.

And Erik would prefer not to be separated from him. “Can you lie on the couch quietly and fall asleep?” he asked conditionally.

Charles looked up, wondering what he would get if he said yes. “Maybe,” he hedged.

“Darla,” Erik summoned through the intercom, “have that meeting routed here instead.”

“ _You want to meet in your office?_ ” Darla double-checked.

“Yes, Darla,” Erik replied, with the sort of patient tone that suggested she had better not ask again. He swiveled in his chair to face Charles. “Am I going to regret this?” he asked warningly.

Charles bounded off the couch and into Erik’s lap before he could be stopped. “No, Erik, I’ll be so quiet!” he vowed.

Erik was trying to keep from getting too rumpled. “Don’t you dare,” he ordered Charles, catching his wrists before he could muss Erik’s hair. “I _will_ send you home.”

“I would kick and scream all through the halls!” Charles shot back with playful drama. “All through the lobby!”

“Yes, and do you know what people would say?” Erik asked dryly. “’If that’s how Lehnsherr treats his Omega, I’d better not f—k with him.’” Which did Erik no harm, in his opinion.

Charles laughed heartily, with a slightly evil tinge that made Erik chuckle along. “A couple more hours, and we’ll go home,” Erik promised, rubbing Charles’s sides through the sweatshirt. “What do you want for dinner? Let’s pick up some sushi.”

This did not tempt Charles, who screwed his face up in disgust, even though normally he liked sushi. “I’m not hungry, Erik!” he said, his tone clearly indicating this should be well understood. “And— _and_ , I just finished watching _Finding Nemo_ , you sick b-----d!”

Which just made Erik laugh. “That’s what gave me the idea—“ His office door opened. “Did I say to come in?” he snapped, driving the person back without even seeing who it was. There was no privacy around here, apparently.

“You’re so rude,” Charles accused, squirming on his lap.

Erik held his hips still, lest he start enjoying it too much. “Can you lie quietly on the couch, and not bother us?” he asked once again. “Just pretend to be asleep.”

“Oh alright,” Charles conceded, as if this was a major imposition, but when he was pushed off Erik he cracked a huge yawn.

Erik watched him tumble onto the couch, his back to the room, then finally responded to the knock he’d heard earlier. “Come in.”

The team leads for the new shopping center project entered to find him looking professional as ever, moving over to the conference table. “We’ll have the meeting in here but you have to be quiet, my Omega is taking a nap,” Erik informed them matter-of-factly. The Alphas and Omegas on the team had already detected Charles; only the Betas had to look around. Erik stared down a couple of the Alphas on principle, then directed them towards the table.

There were some diagrams to project, which meant lowering the shades over the windows and dimming the lights—hopefully that would help Charles sleep better. Not helping? Brad’s increasingly agitated tone as he argued about zoning regulations with Janet. Erik expected all his team leaders to be able to stand up for themselves, and things rather frequently got loud and heated; but right now, Janet was making her points in a calm and rational manner, which was also _quiet_. As Erik had specified.

“Brad.” Erik put weight behind the man’s name, but not volume; everyone else at the table turned to look at him, until Brad realized no one was listening to him and belatedly figured out why. Then he turned towards Erik with some alarm—one quickly learned Erik was most dangerous when he _didn’t_ shout. “Sit down,” Erik commanded. Brad did so. “Do you know the meaning of the word ‘quiet,’ Brad?” he asked mildly.

“Er, sorry,” Brad replied.

“You raise your voice again and you will be out,” Erik warned him. He left it up to the man’s imagination whether that meant out of the meeting, the project, or the whole company. “When I come back we can resume yelling at each other, but today we are having a _quiet_ meeting. Janet, please continue. Brad, shut your f-----g mouth,” he added when the man began to speak again.

The constraint of being quiet seemed to move things along faster; Erik would have to remember that for the future. But he wasn’t sure staying in his office had really been worth it; he was distracted thinking about Charles on the couch, and felt like people kept staring over at him. Well, he’d have Charles all to himself soon, and for later they would know the signs of pre-heat, so Charles could stay safe at home, instead of in Erik’s office.

“Anything else?” Erik checked, glancing around the table. No one spoke, so they broke up, filing out of Erik’s office without small talk, which was what he preferred.

It was only five-thirty. “Is there anything else I need to do before I leave, Darla?” he asked his assistant.

“Will you definitely be in tomorrow?” she checked.

“Not definitely,” Erik hedged.

“Let me get your signature on a couple things,” she decided.

“Okay, thanks.” He went back to his office and leaned over Charles, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. Were you really asleep?” A grumpy whine suggested he really had been. “Sorry. Get up, we’re going home soon.”

“I’m too tired, Erik!” Charles complained. “I can’t walk. You’ll have to carry me.”

Erik snorted and crouched next to Charles’s bag, unsure how everything stacked beside it had actually fit inside. “I’ll carry you over my shoulder,” he offered. “Pack your c—p up, why am I even thinking of doing it?”

Charles sat up to embrace him. “Because you love me, Erik!” he declared.

“I love you, so I enable your irresponsible behavior,” Erik rephrased dryly. “That’s very nice.” He stroked Charles’s hair for a moment, then stepped back. “Pack it up. Get ready to go.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Charles decided. This time he found his shoes without being told.

Weighing his words carefully, Erik allowed, “You can go by yourself. But I’m timing you!” Charles whooped and raced from the room, suddenly not seeming all that tired.

Darla knocked on the open door. “Did he escape?” she asked Erik, who smirked.

“No, it’s okay. Come in.” He signed the papers she’d brought. “Is that it? Why don’t you take off a little early today?” Erik suggested. “I’m going to leave as soon as I get Charles put together.”

“Thanks, I might,” Darla agreed, going back to her desk.

Erik placed an order for sushi to be picked up on the way home, then packed up his laptop. He had almost run out of things to do when Charles finally trotted back in. “We’re leaving,” Erik warned. “We’re walking out the door.”

“I’m not ready!” Charles insisted, stuffing things into his bag. “I’m not dressed!”

“You’re wearing what you wore all afternoon,” he pointed out. “You’re fine.” An oversized sweatshirt and school uniform trousers would not pass muster at some places, but for the ride home, they were fine. “I’m walking to the door,” he continued. “I’m turning off the lights.” He started with the ones on the far side of the room.

“Erik!” Charles wailed, still running around. Doing what, Erik had no idea. “You’re _pressuring_ me!”

“Yes I am,” Erik agreed. “Did you get all the c—p from your bag? Do you have your jacket? Shirt? Tie?”

“Yes, Erik!” Charles replied, now exasperated as he stood before him.

“How about your phone?” Charles patted a couple of pockets, then went back to retrieve his phone from the couch. “I’m going to have that surgically implanted in your arm,” Erik threatened.

“Well then I can watch _Finding Nemo_ whenever I want!” Charles sassed back.

“Out the door,” Erik ordered, swatting at him. “Goodnight, Darla.”

“Goodnight, Darla!” Charles called. “It was so nice to see you today, I never get to see you—“ Erik took his arm and dragged him out the door. “You’re so rude, Erik,” Charles judged once again, with a pout. “I’m just trying to be polite.”

Erik directed him onto the elevator. “You’re wasting time, when we could be headed home,” he corrected.

Charles was not listening, because he had started to dance around the otherwise-empty elevator with far more enthusiasm than the tinny, generic music deserved. Then he suddenly stopped to examine his face in one of the mirrored panels. “I’ve got spots,” he complained.

“Don’t pick at them,” Erik warned. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Maybe I should pluck my eyebrows.”

“What the h—l? No,” Erik denied. “Get back over here.” He held out his hand and Charles took it, but the elevator was small enough that he could still stare at himself, even when Erik pulled him close. “I’m getting sushi on the way home,” he reminded Charles by way of distraction. “Can you think of _anything_ you would eat? A milkshake? Those muffins you like?”

Charles twisted in Erik’s arms and buried his face against his jacket, which Erik took as a no. “I want to go home,” he mumbled, and Erik stroked his back.

“That’s where we’re going, Schatzi,” he promised, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “G-------t,” he sighed as the elevator slowed, too soon to be the parking level. “Straighten up a little,” he ordered Charles, pushing him upright as the doors opened.

Fortunately, it was just a couple of Omegas who got on, from Accounting; Erik felt better with them in the small space than he would have with, say, Alphas. He wasn’t sure _they_ felt quite at ease, however, until Charles perked up and started chattering with them. Erik ignored them and willed the car to go faster.

Erik didn’t normally care so much if an employee was an Alpha, Beta, Omega, or a giraffe in a nice suit, as long as they got their work done properly; he made it out to be a progressive company policy, but actually he didn’t like people much, and couldn’t spare the mental energy to wonder what they had under their clothes and who they shared it with. He supposed he could also thank hormones for his hypersensitivity to this today.

The elevator let the Omegas out in the main lobby and Erik reeled Charles back in with their clasped hands to keep him from following automatically. “Arturo’s waiting with the car downstairs,” he pointed out, which perhaps he’d forgotten to say earlier.

“They were nice,” Charles commented, and Erik looked at him blankly, which made Charles roll his eyes. “The two people who were just here for ten minutes, who I was talking to? Andrea and Julio?”

“Right.”

“You didn’t listen to a word, did you,” Charles accused.

“I don’t like to eavesdrop,” Erik claimed, exiting in the parking garage. It was, well, a parking garage—well-lit and relatively secure, but still a favored site of shady dealings in movies, and Erik looked around alertly as he pushed Charles towards the car.

Arturo hopped out to open the back door for them. “I ran away from school today!” Charles informed him gleefully. “I took the bus here!” Arturo grimaced at the idea.

“Get in,” Erik ordered, following him. “Run by Ichiban first so I can pick up my sushi order,” he added to the driver.

Once they got going Erik felt a little better, which made him realize how anxious he _had_ been, which was utterly ridiculous and needed to stop _now_. He was just picking up on Charles’s squirrellyness and he took the Omega’s hand, hoping this was soothing; he couldn’t pull him close due to the seatbelts.

The city wasn’t dark yet, in late summer; the streets were clogged with rush hour traffic and pedestrians. Usually Erik kept working in the backseat and didn’t notice what was happening outside the city—it didn’t seem like he’d missed much. Charles stared out the window silently, his eyelids occasionally drooping.

Finally they neared the sushi place, and Charles clutched at Erik’s hand when he tried to pull away, his eyes suddenly wide with alarm. “I’m just going to pick up the food,” Erik reminded him, twisting away. “Sit tight, Arturo will circle the block and come back for me.”

“I don’t want you to leave, Erik!” Charles cried frantically.

“You want to come in, then?” This was an untenable spot to leave the car immobile; not much time for negotiation.

“No,” Charles denied. Clearly this was the greater of the two evils. Erik left the car.

His order was ready—he was in there a few times a month and always tipped well, so they remembered his preference for speed—and he was back out on the sidewalk in just a few moments. As he stood on the sidewalk, bag in hand, he realized that somewhere out there in the city, his Omega was riding around in a car, barely supervised (Arturo had to watch the road) and _about to go into heat_. Erik felt a strange clenching in his chest at this thought, his imagination conjuring up lurid worst-case scenarios.

Not _somewhere_ , he chided himself sharply; Arturo was just going around the block, and would return any moment. That was the most likely thing to happen.

Erik still felt palpable relief when he saw the car again, and opened the back door to see Charles still there. The Omega was quivering with anticipation. “Erik, I thought of something I might eat!” he announced excitedly, knowing how much this would please his Alpha.

Erik got in and signaled Arturo to go. “Please, tell me,” he encouraged Charles, wary of being too hopeful.

“An iced raspberry latte,” Charles revealed dreamily. He actually licked his lips, which was a bit theatrical but served its purpose of focusing Erik’s attention.

“Arturo, find me a coffee shop,” Erik ordered through the intercom. “It’s mainly milk, right?”

“It’s milk and coffee and raspberry flavoring, poured over ice!” Charles described excitedly. He did not seem at all queasy, the way he had when other food was mentioned. “With whipped cream on top,” he added.

Erik knew the order well, it being one of Charles’s favorite things to get, and completely disgusting. But at least it had milk.

“There’s a Starbucks on this corner,” Arturo reported. There was a Starbucks on _every_ corner.

“Pull over,” Erik told him, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll go get it for you,” he assured Charles, who had made no move to leave the car, and had in fact taken his shoes off.

“Cheers, Erik!” Charles told him brightly, and Erik got out again.

Coffee shops were busy places at rush hour, apparently. Erik tried to wait patiently, but waiting patiently, among strangers, apart from his Omega, was not his strong suit.

He tried to pretend he was stalking something through the forest, that he was going to kill and bring home to his Omega as a nutritious snack. Which Charles would no doubt turn his nose up at, at least until Erik had done the additional work of skinning and cooking it, and turning it into a taco.

Erik got rather involved in the fantasy and was vaguely disappointed when all he had to show at the end was a cold drink topped with whipped cream, which was still disgusting when he tried it while waiting for the car.

Unexpectedly Arturo hopped out to open the back door for him. “He’s got the music on,” the driver warned, right before something horrible assaulted Erik’s ears.

Charles was singing along at the top of his lungs as Erik got in. “Charles!” he snapped. “Shut that c—p off!” He then did so himself, when Charles didn’t react fast enough. “Here.” He handed over the drink, half-expecting the Omega to reject it. “It’s decaf, for obvious reasons.”

Instead Charles took it eagerly and guzzled it, promptly getting a brain freeze. Erik just shook his head. “You are a disaster,” he judged, with grudging fondness. “What the h—l were you listening to?”

“Someone cool, that you don’t know about,” Charles tossed off, approaching his latte more gingerly.

“She sounded like she was about twelve.”

“It’s a _he_ , Erik!” Charles corrected, which Erik thought made his point rather well.

“So I could probably make that for you, at the house,” Erik speculated, keeping a close eye on the amount of latte Charles consumed. “Do you think you would drink them?”

“How would you _make_ a latte?” Charles scoffed, as if they sprang fully-formed from the head of a barista. In his mind they probably did.

“I would make coffee, add milk, mix it with raspberry flavoring, and pour it over ice,” Erik described simply. “I might even add whipped cream. You know where whipped cream comes from.”

Charles nodded. “Cans.” It was a favorite snack of his, when available; Erik did not make it available very often, as it tended to be misused. “I’m sure there must be more to it than that,” he decided suspiciously.

Erik was already composing an email to the estate manager, to make sure the ingredients were waiting for them. Erik had no idea how raspberry flavoring would be obtained, but he assumed the man would figure it out. “Leave my sushi alone,” he ordered, hearing Charles rustle the bag.

“You got rather a lot,” he observed.

“Are you interested?” Erik asked, and Charles shook his head quickly and went back to his latte. “I got a special roll for you, it’s made with clownfish,” Erik deadpanned.

Charles started to whine. “Erik, I told you I don’t want—“ Then he got it and burst out a sharp laugh. “That’s not very nice!” he accused, whacking Erik’s arm while the other man laughed.

“They call it the Nemo,” Erik insisted, as Charles continued to laugh and fuss at the same time.

“I can’t believe you remembered Nemo was a clownfish!” Charles praised him, somewhat dubiously.

“G-d, you watch it at least once a week, Schatzi,” Erik pointed out, exaggerating only slightly. Charles had even given his bathroom a tropical fish makeover—Erik allowed this as long as it didn’t spread to the rest of the apartment. He was dreading the day Charles asked for pet fish.

“Should I bring my Nemo with me?” Charles wondered. He’d had a large stuffed orange fish for several years, which sat on his bed and got cuddled when he was sick or sad. “I didn’t get a chance to pack him last time.” And he certainly could have used the comfort then.

“Sure, that’s a good idea,” Erik claimed, too easily. “He’s washable, right? Because if he’s in the bed he’ll probably—“

Charles squawked in objection and cut him off, only Erik’s strict rules about seatbelt use keeping him in his seat instead of clobbering Erik. “I’m going to leave him at home,” Charles judged primly. “To preserve his childhood innocence!”

“Probably for the best,” Erik agreed. Charles’s stuffed animals always seemed to watch him with disapproval.

Arturo pulled the car into their building’s parking garage as Charles slurped loudly on his drink, finishing it off. “You have your bag? Your clothes?” Erik prompted. “Your phone?” Charles held it up with exasperation, like he didn’t lose it completely about four times a year.

They got out, juggling various possessions. “Thanks, Arturo,” Erik told the driver, distracted watching Charles dance over to a garbage can to throw his cup away, in case he was netted by alien collectors or whatever Erik’s lizard brain feared. “Take a break for a few days. Charles!” He summoned the Omega back to his hand for the walk to the elevator.

“Mr. Lehnsherr!” Arturo called, and jogged over with Charles’s school tie, which had gotten left behind. Erik took it from him and thought seriously about tying Charles up with it, but the imagery was a little too evocative. Instead he just shook it in front of the sheepish teen and pushed him into the elevator.

Charles squirmed restlessly on the trip up to their apartment, dropping things several times. When he stopped moving he drooped, so Erik figured he was just trying to stay awake. But if he went to bed now he would probably wake up in the middle of the night and torment Erik further.

“Don’t,” Erik warned, after he’d let them inside the apartment, as Charles made to flop down on the couch. “Put your things in your room. Change your clothes.” He stashed the sushi in the fridge and went to do the same, trying to be a good role model. He could hear Charles complaining up and down the entire hallway, but when the teen reappeared in the kitchen he was wearing pajama pants and Erik’s sweatshirt.

Erik was neatly laying the sushi out on the counter, watching Charles for any flicker of interest. “Eat some of the ginger, it will settle your stomach,” he suggested, so Charles nibbled on a piece. “You want to sit with me?” Erik offered, and Charles hurried around the counter to perch on Erik’s knee while he balanced on the stool. Erik wrapped an arm around him and kissed his cheek, but there was a price for this intimacy.

“This is a rainbow roll,” Erik pointed out. “You eat one piece—one piece,” he repeated as Charles groaned, “and I promise I won’t say anything else about food the rest of the night.” Heaving a sigh the Omega opened his mouth, and Erik popped a piece of sushi in before he could change his mind. “Good boy,” he praised. “Call Mutti and tell her how mean I’m being.”

Charles choked the food down and dialed. “Mutti!” he whined in his most pitiful tone. “He’s force-feeding me raw fish!”

“ _Well, you probably need the protein, Gummibärchen_ ,” Edie responded soothingly.

Her words were not lost on Erik. “Oh my G-d! Thank you, Mother, _finally_ —“ He was cut off with a wince as she chided him in rapid German for taking the Lord’s name in vain.

Charles laughed heartlessly at him. “And—Mutti, Mutti, Mutti—“ Like she wasn’t listening. “He said one of the rolls had _clownfish_ in it! Yes, just like Nemo,” he agreed in a superior tone, poking at Erik. “Wasn’t that so mean?”

“Tell her how you ran away from school,” Erik prompted, “and _took the bus_.” He still shuddered to think of what could have happened—Charles’s navigation skills weren’t top-notch anyway.

“I didn’t feel good, Mutti,” Charles excused. “I just wanted to see Erik. He let me stay in his office all afternoon! But he followed me to the bathroom almost every time!”

They chattered while Erik ate, his mother getting some of her own news in; Charles was polite enough to ask, and actually remembered things from previous conversations, like her bridge partner being sick and her cat being on a diet. Which was just the sort of thing Erik seemed to automatically dump from his mind, without really meaning to. Half the time he was still surprised his mother _had_ a cat, because the d—n thing hid whenever he visited (but came out for Charles, of course).

“I bet Petey would like a clownfish roll,” Erik suggested innocently, of the cat, which led Charles to tattle on him.

“Okay, Mutti,” Charles said into the phone in a concluding tone. “I love you! Erik loves you too but he’s stuffing his face right now and can’t say so. Bye!” He hung up before Erik could finish chewing.

“I’m fueling up,” Erik rephrased, once he could. “Keeping an Omega satisfied during heat is hard work, you know.” He’d hoped Charles would perk up at the innuendo, but instead the teen squirmed around more onto his lap and rested his head against Erik’s shoulder. It was not the easiest way to eat sushi and Charles whined when he got some rice dropped on him.

“Sorry,” Erik told him, trying to sound a bit sincere, and not annoyed. If Charles was being quiet and still, it meant he was really tired, and/or feeling ill. “Why don’t you go take a bath?” he suggested.

“Yes, if you’re going to keep getting food on me, I’ll _need_ a bath,” Charles replied irritably, and Erik rocked him a little.

“Soak for a while,” he encouraged. “Keep the water lukewarm.” He could feel the warmth radiating from the Omega, the back of his sweatshirt damp with sweat. “You want me to start it for you?”

“No, I’ll do it,” Charles claimed, but didn’t move. “You smell nice,” he added, snuffling at Erik’s neck.

“What was it? Smoky oranges?” Erik recalled of his alleged scent.

“Oranges and wood smoke,” Charles corrected with some vehemence, “and you think _I_ smell like a dessert, so you shouldn’t make fun of me, Erik!”

Erik kissed his forehead, even though this got soy sauce on Charles, much to his horror. “Right now you smell like an apple strudel that’s gone off,” he assessed, “so go relax. Do you want some Tylenol?”

Charles wrapped his arms around Erik suddenly, and Erik just had to give up eating altogether. “I don’t feel good, Erik!” he whined.

There was something about the resonance frequency of that whine that triggered Erik’s Alpha instincts, always had, which was probably one of those things you weren’t supposed to admit to anyone except a trained professional. “Well let’s see what we can do about that, Schatzi,” Erik decided, scooping Charles up and standing. “You can pretend you’re Nemo,” he added lightly, carrying him down the hall to their bathroom. “Only keep your head above water.”

He stood Charles up in the master bathroom, over his protests, and started the water in the ridiculously oversized whirlpool tub that was only ever used by Charles, alone or in concert with Erik. Charles had been very insistent that Erik get one, so, it was going to be used.

“Are you taking off your clothes?” Erik prompted, adjusting the water temperature. “I usually don’t have to tell you.”

Charles was not. “Well, could I have a little _privacy_ , please, Erik?” he asked sharply, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “If you’re going to _make_ me take a bath.”

Erik was not offended, because he was not overburdened with sensitivity, as he had often been told. “Yes,” he promised, giving Charles’s tense figure a quick kiss before leaving. “I’ll check on you later.” Because the bath was not optional.

**

Sometime later Erik knocked on the bathroom door and heard Charles talking within. When he opened it he saw the Omega still relaxing in the cool water, skin wrinkled like a prune. Somehow he’d gotten his phone to the side of the tub without destroying it.

“The head chef has returned,” Charles announced darkly, seeing Erik. “Come to check if I’ve marinated long enough.”

“ _Honestly, Charles, you’re so grumpy right now_ ,” Raven said from the phone.

“Leave him alone,” Erik ordered her immediately. “Don’t stress him out.”

He could practically hear Raven roll her eyes. “ _When I get an Omega, will I become as big a doofus as you are?_ ”

“Probably,” Erik agreed, more thoughtfully. “I would pay to see that.”

Charles splashed around in the tub, regaining Erik’s attention. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” he told Raven petulantly. “Hang up!”

“You _hang up!_ ” she taunted.

Charles started to reach a dripping wet hand towards the phone and Erik intervened. “I’ll hang up,” he decided. “Bye, Raven.”

“ _Bye! Have a nice heat!_ ” Charles refused to reply and Erik ended the call, moving the phone to safety.

“Are you ready to get out?” he asked Charles mildly, bracing himself for a caustic rejoinder from his churlish Omega.

Indeed, Charles opened his mouth like he was going to let loose something blistering—but then he paused, took a deep breath, and answered instead, “Please hand me a towel.”

Erik rewarded him with a big grin, as well as a towel, and Charles started to return the smile tentatively. But then he winced, perhaps with a cramp, and snatched the towel from Erik. Wrapping it around himself hurriedly, he stomped off to his room.

“I’ll bring you some iced tea later,” Erik called after him, and set to wiping up his wet footprints with a very Alpha sense of satisfaction.

**

It was after midnight, and Erik couldn’t sleep. Oh, he _wanted_ to sleep. It had been a long day and there was probably another long day coming up. And he thought he probably _could_ sleep, if given the chance. But presently there was an unhappy Omega writhing and muttering in the bed next to him.

He could feel the frustration rolling off Charles, exhaustion and guilt at keeping Erik up mingled in, so for a while Erik didn’t say anything, tried to not even move. He hoped being calm and still might soothe Charles to be the same, but so far this had not worked.

Erik’s first strategy, of helping Charles pull blankets on and push them off, straighten them when they got tangled, retrieve pillows he’d flung away and now wanted back, had been roundly criticized, so he stopped. He also thought about offering to sleep elsewhere, but his breath caught at being separated from Charles, and anyway he wasn’t sure how that would actually help the Omega.

Charles tossed and turned, trying every possible position. He yanked his t-shirt off, then twisted up in a sheet, then frantically shook it off and got his feet snarled. When he came near to kicking Erik, the Alpha felt he had to say something.

“Charles—“

“I’m sorry!” he sobbed immediately. “I know I’m being horrible! I thought heat was supposed to be sexy and instead I’m just unpleasant and I can’t get comfortable!”

“Heat is not supposed to be sexy,” Erik corrected, rolling over on his side to stare down at Charles. “It is supposed to fulfill an important biological purpose, and it doesn’t care how it makes either of us feel.”

Charles blinked up at him with wet blue eyes. “You’re so comforting, Erik,” he deadpanned.

Erik had not meant to be comforting, of course. “You’re the one interested in biology, not me,” he reminded Charles. “I’ve read whole Wikipedia articles so I could converse on your level.”

“Oh, Wikipedia,” Charles scoffed, still turning restlessly like a rotisserie chicken. Erik decided there was definitely a connection between heat, and associating Charles with food items. “Maybe I should go sleep in my room,” he sighed miserably.

Both of them were reluctant to accept that solution, however. “Can I try something?” Erik asked. This was just instinct and he had no idea if it would work.

“What?” Charles wanted to know.

“Roll over. Come here.” Erik put Charles’s back to him, then gathered him up close.

Immediately Charles protested. “Erik, I’m too warm!”

“Just let me try it.” Erik pinned Charles’s arms against his chest and weighted his legs down with his own, so he could hardly move. To Erik, it felt very right, but to Charles, not so much.

“Erik, I don’t like it!” he complained, wriggling incessantly.

Erik kissed the side of his head. “Just let me try it for a minute, okay, Schatzi? If you still don’t like it I’ll let you go.”

“Okay,” Charles agreed grudgingly, and Erik squeezed him even tighter. There was something very primal about using his greater strength and body mass to contain his Omega—he didn’t think of it like _restraining_ Charles, more like he was shielding him somehow.

Charles squirmed for forty-five seconds. Then he slowed down. “Erik,” he murmured sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“This feels nice,” Charles admitted. Within moments he was limp with sleep.

If he had been awake he would have been disgusted by how smug Erik looked. But Erik just had to enjoy it alone. He waited another minute or so, then slowly relaxed his hold on Charles, letting him lay more naturally and release his warmth to the room. Erik didn’t need to embrace a little heater all night, he tended to run hot anyway. Once he was satisfied Charles was taken care of, he drifted off himself.

**

Erik awoke early, full of energy. Wary of disturbing Charles, Erik slipped quietly out of bed and hopped on the treadmill in his home office for a jog. Then he checked on Charles (asleep), took a shower, checked on Charles (asleep), ate breakfast, checked on Charles (asleep), and started answering some emails from work. Charles was still asleep (but breathing normally) when Erik checked on him again, so he decided to start getting dressed.

Around that time there was movement from the bed, little groans and mutterings of a soul being dragged unwillingly to light. “Good morning, Schatzi,” Erik said, in a tone that sounded disgustingly chipper even to his own ears.

“Blegh,” Charles responded, rolling over defiantly. Things were starting to percolate through his sluggish brain, however, and after a moment he pushed himself up and shuffled off to the bathroom. When he returned, Erik was tying his tie, and Charles threw himself back into bed, intent on sleeping longer.

Then he spun around suddenly. “What are you doing?” he asked Erik suspiciously.

“I am going into work for a few hours,” Erik informed him, putting on his jacket. “I’ll come home for lunch, and after that we’ll get on the road. It would help if you packed while I’m gone.”

Charles was kneeling on the bed now, all trace of sleepiness gone. “But, Erik—“ he protested.

“I’ll ask Mrs. Malloy to pack for you,” Erik reversed prudently, moving energetically around the bedroom. As soon as he got to work he was going to _call a meeting_ and remind people of a few upcoming deadlines—

“Erik, you can’t _leave_!” Charles cried.

Erik was not surprised by this objection. “I’ll send Mrs. Malloy up,” he promised. “If anything happens before I get home, have her call me.” From his research he figured Charles wouldn’t start full-blown heat until the end of the day, maybe later, although Charles never did anything on a schedule—

“Erik, you can’t leave!” Charles repeated, in a slightly more hysterical tone. “You’re my Alpha and I’m going into heat, how can you leave me alone?! You have to take care of me, Erik, anything could happen to me if you leave me alone! I could get sick or someone might grab me or I might just lose my mind, because that’s really what it feels like, Erik, like I’m losing my mind and YOU HAVE TO STAY HERE. JUST STAY HERE, ERIK!” By the end he was standing on the bed, shouting, his face flushed and voice shaking.

Erik stared at him, frozen in place with shock. After a moment Charles broke eye contact and sat down quietly on the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice, eyes downcast. “I’ll be okay with Mrs. Malloy. You can go to work.”

Erik was taking off his jacket and tie even as Charles spoke. “No, I don’t think so,” he said decisively.

Charles buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Erik,” he repeated, more forcefully. “Please go to work! You made plans and I’ve already interrupted—“

“I’m not going to work.” Erik was now not sure what on Earth he had been thinking, he couldn’t even let Charles _sleep_ in another room, how did he think he was going to function _miles_ away downtown? Hopefully he would have realized that on his way out the door and not, say, in the middle of that meeting he had been so intent on calling.

Erik folded his trousers neatly over the back of a chair and unbuttoned his shirt efficiently, noticing the little peeks Charles couldn’t help taking as he stripped down to his briefs. “You have successfully triggered my Alpha instincts again,” he noted, trying to study the feeling with detachment. He was very calm, but at the same time extremely focused—he knew without a doubt that his Omega was not leaving his sight. Erik draped himself across the bed. “Come here.”

Charles cuddled up to him readily, the apple cinnamon scent getting more distinct. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you, Erik,” he apologized softly, as if he was now making an effort to compensate for his earlier volume. “I’m so sorry I’m making things difficult, I just don’t feel well—“

Erik kissed the top of his head. “Please, Schatzi, you make things difficult even when you feel fine,” he responded, which was perhaps not what Charles really wanted to hear. “What would I do with a boring, predictable Omega?” he wondered aloud. “G-d, that would be horrible.” Tethered for life to a soppy, bland mate who did what he was told and was reasonably responsible for himself? “My life would be so empty, without you to look after.”

_That_ was what Charles wanted to hear, even if it was said in a tone of horror instead of romance, as Erik contemplated the bleak life that might have been with an Omega like Janos or Moira. Though Azazel and Emma liked them well enough.

“I love you, Erik!” Charles declared, snuggling against him.

“I love you, too, Charles.” Maybe he didn’t say that often enough.

“I know you do, because you put up with me,” Charles admitted.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Erik warned as he felt Charles relax. He pushed him back and got up, searching for his jeans. “We still have things to accomplish today!” His energy and drive had not been extinguished, merely redirected.

Charles rolled his eyes and tried to burrow back into bed. “What things? I’m sick, I’m not running a marathon.”

Erik was hanging his work clothes back up, pulling on a t-shirt, and retrieving their suitcases all at the same time. “You have to shower, and stay hydrated,” he listed. “And you’re going to have a protein shake. It’s probably better to have that mid-day, if you aren’t going to eat anything else. Are these too warm for you?” he asked, holding up a pair of plaid pajama pants. “I haven’t seen you wear them in a while.”

“G-d,” Charles replied, heaving a monumental sigh. When Erik got in _this_ mood he knew he should just give up on sleep entirely.

**

Erik decided they should leave for the country house early, before lunch—not that Charles cared about lunch anyway. He tried to do as Erik instructed, more or less—shower, dress, drink—with a minimum of fuss and delay, still feeling embarrassed about his outburst that morning. These stupid hormones got him all mixed up inside and made him think about unpleasant things, or rather made it harder to lock those unpleasant things away like he usually did.

Charles took a shower, as directed, then stood in the middle of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, trying to see what mess he’d left. He was supposed to be an adult now; surely he could do a little better, be less worthy of the (entirely accurate in the past) nickname Spoiled Little S—t. It felt like he was trying to switch to X-ray vision, using muscles he hadn’t known he had. Aha—water on the floor and around the sink! Erik had complained about that before. So Charles got out a new towel and started swabbing up the puddles, which did not feel as satisfying as he’d hoped.

Erik knocked on the door suddenly. “Charles? You okay?”

“Yes,” Charles called back. “I’m cleaning the bathroom!”

This made Erik open the door, no doubt wondering if Charles had lost his memory again. Poor Erik, he was going to worry about that until the day he died. Charles tried to allay his fears by giving him a brilliant smile. “See, just cleaning up the water,” Charles told him.

Erik blinked. “What did you spill?” he asked suspiciously. “Because some things will stain the towels—“

“Oh, I can’t just be cleaning up the water you always complain about?” Charles shot back, with some sarcasm. “It has to be that I’ve done something worse and I’m _lying_ about it?” Funny, he’d been trying to do something nice, and now he was mad and his words were coming out all wrong.

Whenever things got tense Erik wanted to touch him, and Charles saw him approaching from behind in the mirror. If Charles rejected his embrace, _then_ Erik would be hurt; Charles’s words seemed to bounce off Erik usually, which was good as Charles could be rather loose with them.

Erik took his upper arms, long fingers massaging the stiff muscles, and pulled Charles back against his chest. Charles sighed and tried to relax into his Alpha, and Erik wrapped his arms all the way around him, heedless of the wetness Charles was leaving on him. Very few Alphas he knew would put up with him, Charles reflected.

“Are you really cleaning up water you splashed around?” Erik asked in an upbeat tone, lips near his ear.

“I _was_ ,” Charles replied, not ready to be sweet yet.

He saw Erik grin in the mirror, too many teeth impossibly bright, and as always Charles felt compelled to respond. “Good,” Erik told him. “You missed some over there.” He released Charles abruptly. “I’m going to lay out your clothes for you.” He marched off, busy with Alpha purpose, and Charles rolled his eyes, but fondly.

Once dressed in what Erik had chosen—to save time, because when Charles wasn’t stuck in his school uniform he liked to pick his clothes carefully, with a lot of mixing and matching and trying things on and leaving them in piles on the floor, which Erik also objected to—Charles ventured out into the rest of the apartment, where Erik was whizzing around the kitchen.

“Why are you packing up food, Erik?” Charles asked, taking a seat at the counter. “There will be food at the house, won’t there?”

A bottle of some enhanced water magically appeared in front of Charles, the seal already broken. Not magically, Erik had put it there for him, during his multi-tasking frenzy. One of his tasks was Charles, after all. Actually Charles was probably a whole section.

“Just taking a few things with us that might be useful,” Erik replied, putting some bananas in a sack.

“Are we trekking across the frozen tundra with sled dogs, Erik?” Charles asked teasingly, sipping his drink. That was where his imagination went, the scene playing out vividly. “I could wear a sealskin coat lined with fur—“

“Ah, from those baby seals I clubbed for you,” Erik suggested, adding a box of cereal to his collection. He poked repeatedly at the top, trying to keep it closed, but the flaps were all torn; that was what happened whenever Charles opened things.

“Not _baby_ seals, Erik!” Charles chided. “Adult seals who had chosen an unproductive life of crime.” Erik laughed at this unexpected turn and Charles counted this as a win. “And I can sit in the sled and you can stand behind me and make the sled dogs _mush_ —“

“So you’re going to be staring at a dog’s a-s for hours as we cross the frozen tundra?” Erik surmised.

“No, I’ll have my phone and watch _Finding Nemo_.”

Erik laughed _again_ , and Charles squirmed in his seat, so happy he could please him. Erik could be a little awe-inspiring, how he was always getting things done, and was never late and never lost anything—he made it seem so effortless, when Charles knew from personal experience that these things were very difficult. But Erik had such discipline, such organization, such biceps—

“Erik, Erik,” Charles said excitedly, wanting to summon him closer, “I think I would eat something.” Hmm, not exactly what he’d meant to say, but it did the trick, as Erik put down the grocery bag and zipped to his side.

“You would eat something?” Erik repeated. His focus was laser-intense and Charles warmed happily as its object. “What would you eat?”

“I think I would eat some chips and salsa,” Charles decided randomly. The idea didn’t immediately sicken him, so maybe he really would eat it. Then he wondered, in a sudden panic, if they even _had_ chips and salsa—Erik would be so disappointed if he couldn’t provide it, probably start calling people to have it delivered—

A bowl of salsa was set in front of Charles, and a bag of chips. D—n, he’d been imagining again, and totally missed Erik opening the jar. That was his favorite part, especially when he had to apply some force because the lid was stuck on the dried tomato juice Charles refused to clean off the lip.

Erik was standing across the counter watching him expectantly, so Charles took a broken chip and scooped up a few tomato pieces. They were just tomatoes, Charles told himself—he could stomach them. Hurriedly he put the food in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

Erik looked so happy, Charles immediately grabbed another chip to repeat the experiment, though Erik disappointingly moved away. “Let me know if you want more,” Erik invited, going back to packing and folding laundry and generally saving the world.

Charles ate some more chips and salsa, and drank his sugary water. It was nutritionally balanced to meet his needs, he was sure of that. Erik was pretty obsessed with what they drank. Erik was pretty obsessed with a lot of things, or maybe that was what was meant by ‘being responsible’? Charles didn’t really care how his socks were folded or his books arranged, or what was in what he drank. That probably indicated some kind of character deficiency.

Charles had another chip loaded with salsa halfway to his mouth when suddenly he felt— _horrible_ was the only word for it, he couldn’t even describe it further. He dropped the chip back in the bowl and concentrated on sitting very still. He didn’t know what would happen if he moved—vomit, pass out, something—but it was sure to be bad.

The feeling did not go away after a few seconds. “I don’t think I want to eat any more,” Charles stated, in a voice that sounded shockingly normal for all he was verging on an implosion. “Erik—“ His vision started to turn snowy white around the edges, like bad TV reception.

Erik was at his side in an instant, plucking him from the chair. “Okay, Schatzi, you’re okay,” Erik told him in a reassuring tone. “You’re just fine.”

Charles did not feel fine, but Erik was taking care of him, so he supposed he soon would be. Erik laid him down on the couch, on his side, and seemed to vanish momentarily, reappearing to press something to Charles’s chapped and sticky lips. “Drink this.” It tasted chalky, like something Charles shouldn’t ingest. “Drink it,” Erik said more firmly, so he did, and tried not to gag. Then Erik pressed something cool to his cheeks and forehead, and the back of his neck. “You’re okay, you’re just fine.”

“I’m clearly not, Erik!” Charles whined, which was the sign that he was feeling better. At least, not so much like he might lose control of his body and fly into a million pieces. But it had been scary for a moment there—he was so afraid of getting really sick again, and the tears sprang easily to his eyes. “Is there something wrong with me, Erik?” he worried.

His Alpha was checking his pulse, fingers on Charles’s wrist while he stared at his watch. “No, I think you’re okay,” he judged. “I should get a blood pressure cuff, so I can check your blood pressure whenever I want,” he planned. “And a blood sugar test kit.”

These were Erik’s fantasies, when some people dreamed of moonlight swims on tropical islands, and Charles huffed and sagged back against the couch. He shouldn’t be afraid of getting sick, he should be afraid of Erik finding new ways to monitor him. “I’m sure you have to be trained to use those, Erik!” he insisted. He inhaled to snuffle up his tears and caught a soothing whiff of oranges and wood smoke. “Can you stay here?” he asked Erik. Or, failing that, “Can I have your shirt?”

Erik kissed his forehead, stubble slightly scratchy. “I’ll get you another shirt,” he promised, and Charles whined in protest as he stood. “Don’t worry, Schatzi, I’ll be back to pay attention to you soon,” he promised. “Close your eyes, get some more sleep.” Charles felt that sounded like a good idea, as he’d just been through a rather traumatic experience.

**

He awoke not too much later, he thought. One of Erik’s shirts, deliciously pungent, had been tucked into his arms; Charles wanted to eat it, roll around in it, bathe in it. He settled for rubbing his face in it. Then he thought he heard Erik’s voice and perked up alertly, but he didn’t see his Alpha anywhere.

Charles sat up and nothing bad happened, so he tried standing and that went okay, too. In fact he felt pretty good, and bounced off in search of Erik, clutching the shirt. The apartment seemed empty, though, and then Charles noticed the front door was ajar and he froze. Erik was very safety conscious, he wouldn’t leave the front door open like that, with Charles vulnerable inside—

Charles mentally slapped himself. _Get a grip._ They were not in a zombie movie, there were not raging hordes out to get him. There was a perfectly logical explanation for this, and Charles stepped up to the door and peeked out.

Erik was out in the hall, with Azazel, signing some papers, and Charles heaved a sigh of relief and opened the door fully, intending to bound out and embrace him. “Erik!”

Erik glanced up, pinning Charles in place with a look. “I’ll just be a minute,” Erik told him, in a voice that was deadly calm. “Go wait in your room.”

“I’m not supposed to get close to the little Omega in heat!” Azazel laughed, mocking Erik.

Then Erik snarled, low and wet in the back of his throat, and the sound went straight to Charles’s lizard brain and had an immediate effect. With what he feared was a squeak Charles raced away from the door and ended up in the bedroom, wedging himself into a corner and snuffling at Erik’s t-shirt. He was not sure if he should be trying to work himself up or down at this point—it was rather easy to fall into fantasies about what he wanted to do with Erik during heat, which he had so far been trying to avoid.

After a couple minutes he heard the front door shut and lock, and then Erik’s footsteps as he searched the flat. Charles’s heart was _pounding_ , torn between an intense desire to hide and an equally intense desire to be found.

“Charles?” Erik would start to get worried soon though, and that wasn’t fun.

“In here!” Charles called, his voice shaky.

Erik entered the bedroom and pivoted slowly, then bent down to see where Charles was hidden. Carefully he came closer, though not close enough for Charles to grab, and crouched down. Avidly Charles ogled how Erik’s jeans tightened around him. “Do you feel okay?” Erik asked, slightly wary. Charles couldn’t blame him, he probably looked a little disturbed right now.

“Yes, I feel fine, Erik,” Charles answered promptly.

Erik moved to sit down on the floor, figuring this was going to be a longer conversation, and Charles licked his lips hungrily. “Why are you hiding back there?” Erik asked.

“It feels good!”

Erik nodded slowly, rubbing his hands idly on his thighs. His fingers were long and callused from work, and could do such amazing things—Charles wiped a little drool on the t-shirt he twisted in his hands.

“Were you scared by Azazel?” Erik questioned evenly. “There were some things I had to sign, I wouldn’t let him inside—“

Charles had completely forgotten the other man had been there. “No,” he promised Erik.

“Were you scared when I growled at you?” Erik tried. “It was just because Azazel—“

“No, I wasn’t scared, Erik!” Charles asserted. “I really liked you growling. If you came closer I would grab you and squeeze you and eat you up!”

Erik blinked at him. “Okay, as long as you weren’t scared,” he decided dryly, and started to stand.

Charles let out a moan of pure frustration. “Erik, don’t _leave_! What if—what if my heat has started already?” He was rather eager for this to happen now—get to the good part!

Erik smirked, kneeling on the floor. “Well come out here, little monster, and let’s check.”

Charles tried to comply, but rather embarrassingly, found himself stuck, or rather without the proper leverage to dislodge himself without some effort. Erik shook his head and rose, walking closer to offer his whimpering Omega a hand. Once on his feet Charles pounced, knocking Erik to the bed and straddling him swiftly, leaning down to kiss him and grinding their hips together.

Once he got over his surprise Erik wasted no time digging his hands into Charles’s hair and directing his lips, selfishly insisting on _breathing_ , so Charles had to focus his attention, and teeth, on Erik’s throat. “Ow,” Erik complained. Alphas could be such _babies_ , Charles hadn’t even broken the skin. Nonetheless Erik rolled them over, pinning Charles beneath him.

Charles whined as Erik pulled himself out of reach. “Erik! Why are you being so mean?” he demanded. “Why do you always stop us from having sex?!”

“I’m not,” Erik insisted, but it didn’t look that way to Charles, with Erik just kneeling above him and holding his wrists. “How do you feel?”

Charles thought this was a deeply stupid question, which might have shown on his face. “I’m a little frustrated right now, Erik,” he replied, aggressively calm. Erik saw through this immediately and grinned, devastatingly. It made Charles melt. “You’re all mine, Erik,” he announced, savoring the feeling. It was hard to believe, even after all this time.

“Yes, I’m all yours,” Erik agreed, leaning back down. He kissed Charles hungrily, tongue distracting him until Charles realized that one of Erik’s hands had slid between his thighs. Charles moaned his appreciation at the familiar touch, sucking in a sharp breath as Erik removed his fingers and sniffed them like he had the day before.

“Am I in heat? What do you think?” Charles babbled, squirming beneath Erik. “What do I smell like? Am I sexy apple cinnamon yet?”

Erik released Charles’s hands, knowing he would be grabbed again, and bracing himself to make their kiss less bruising. “You smell pretty good,” he assessed, panting in Charles’s ear. “I don’t think you’ve quite gone over the edge yet. Do you feel like you have?”

Charles was no longer interested in judging this. “I don’t know. I can’t tell. Erik, can we _please_ have sex right now?”

“Yes,” Erik agreed, and stripped off his shirt. He pushed Charles’s up and began kissing his way down his chest, stubble tickling deliciously.

Charles took the opportunity to mess up his hair, because it had to be done. To stave off any chiding he moaned, “Erik, I really want your knot!”

Erik was pulling Charles’s pajama pants down with exquisite slowness, nibbling on his hipbone. “Mmm, I don’t think I’ll knot yet,” he murmured.

Charles eyes flew open once this statement percolated through his foggy brain. “What?”

“I don’t think we’re quite ready for knotting,” Erik rephrased. “It doesn’t quite feel like it.”

Erik wouldn’t develop a knot until Charles’s hormones told him the time was right, and that time had apparently not yet come. Charles felt blistered by disappointment and flopped back on the bed.

Erik noticed the change. “You still want to have sex, don’t you?” he checked.

“Well, not really, no,” Charles admitted.

Erik’s head snapped up, blue eyes blazing. “ _Really?!_ ” he demanded, _as if_ Charles would joke about such a thing.

Charles could see the dilemma. “Well, I really want your knot, but if you aren’t going to—“

Erik knelt up, staring at Charles in disbelief. “You g-----n little tease!” he sputtered.

Some people might have taken offense at this, but Charles knew what Erik meant, and twined his fingers around his Alpha’s placatingly. “I know, I’m sorry,” he agreed regretfully, encouraging Erik to lie back down on him. Touch would soothe him, even if it did nothing else. “I was just thinking, if we have sex now, it will be messy, and then I’ll want to take another shower, and then I’ll have to clean the bathroom again, and you said you wanted to go soon and I’m sure I’ve already delayed you—“

“This isn’t a business trip, Schatzi,” Erik noted, nuzzling his neck as Charles stroked his hair. “It’s all for you. We can leave whenever you want.”

This was the problem Charles was trying to get at. “It’s always all for me, though,” he pointed out, not just of this trip, but of much of their life. “I want—I want to do something _helpful_ for you, Erik.”

“Well I can think of a few things,” Erik murmured lewdly in his ear, but that wasn’t what Charles meant and he huffed. Erik propped himself up on his elbows to look down on Charles. “So what you’re saying is,” he began leadingly, “you’re trying to be… unselfish and responsible?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s it exactly, Erik!” Charles promised excitedly, pleased Erik had recognized this. “Don’t you think that’s a good goal?”

Erik grinned with approval. “I do. It’s really sexy, actually.”

“I know! It’s like how sexy you are when you’re nobly trying not to have sex with me for my own good!” Charles compared.

Erik rolled onto his side, taking Charles with him so the Omega could snuggle against him. “So what we’ve learned is,” he summarized dryly, “we both think the other is really sexy, when we’re trying _not_ to have sex.”

Erik found this absurd enough to laugh at, but Charles frowned. “That presents rather a conundrum,” he judged with disappointment.

This only made Erik laugh more. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to overcome our moral scruples soon,” he predicted, kissing Charles’s forehead.

“I also like it when you growl,” Charles sighed happily. He got a little shiver just remembering it, but made an effort to tamp his excitement down, so as to continue being _responsible_.

Erik tipped Charles’s head back, brushing a thumb over his mouth, and frowned. “Your lips are chapped,” he noted. “You need more to drink. And some chapstick.” He started to roll away and Charles clutched at him.

“Can’t we cuddle more?” he asked with dissatisfaction. “I like cuddling.” Erik was so nice to cuddle with, all warm and citrusy and smoky, and capable of lying still and letting Charles nibble on him (usually). He remembered cuddling with Raven when they were small, but she was too squirmy, and as she got older smelled a bit like dead worms on the sidewalk after a rain.

“We’ll have time to cuddle later,” Erik promised. He disengaged from Charles and pulled his shirt back on, energy picking up again. “I already sent the bags down,” he added, “so we can go any time.”

Charles propped his head up on his fist. “Yes, you did say we could leave whenever _I_ wanted,” he reminded him.

“That was when I thought we were going to have sex,” Erik shot back. “Where’s your shoes?”

Charles let out a resigned whine and rolled off the bed. “I require cuddling time later!” he insisted, heading for the bathroom.

“We will cuddle for _days_ , Schatzi,” Erik vowed, his voice deliciously low and distracting, when Charles was _trying_ to be responsible.

A few minutes later Charles was standing in the middle of the living room, not moving and _not_ taking off his shoes, holding a tote bag open while Erik discovered all kinds of last-minute items that needed to be packed, like lip balm, Charles’s phone, the t-shirt he’d been snuggling, new bottles of water, granola bars, a book—“ _Really_ , Erik?” Charles asked pointedly. “Am I going to have to tell people you brought a _book_ along on my heat? Why don’t you just bring your laptop, so you can send emails while waiting for the knot to go down?”

“Point taken,” Erik agreed, removing the book. Then he smirked. “Before Darla knew where we were going, she asked if I could make a conference call.”

Charles imagined that and laughed heartily, mainly along the lines of Erik trying to keep his cool on the phone—even better, Skype!—while Charles did delightful things to him under the table. Hmm, that might be a fun thing to try anyway, not with a real phone call, of course…

“Okay, we are ready to walk out the door,” Erik prompted.

“I’ll go to the bathroom first,” Charles decided, handing the bag to Erik. The Alpha carefully did not betray any impatience, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. “I know you don’t want me stopping at some _gas station_ later,” Charles called back as he went down the hall. “Where someone will call the police because you’re loitering around the Omegas’ room!”

“Good thinking,” Erik claimed, forcing brightness into his tone.

After somewhat longer than was really necessary, Charles returned to the living room. “Did you pack my toothbrush, Erik?” he asked worriedly. It seemed obvious now, he supposed. “I wanted to brush my teeth but I couldn’t find it. How about my hairbrush? My hair’s a mess—“

Erik rolled his eyes and took Charles’s shoulder, steering him towards the door. “Enough grooming,” he told him. “Let’s go.”

Well, Erik didn’t know what it was like, to have everyone staring at you and feel intensely self-conscious about it! Charles dug the t-shirt out of the bag and snuffled it for comfort.

Erik gave him an amused look but softened it by putting an arm around Charles’s shoulders as they walked to the elevator. “Would you rather have the t-shirt or the real thing?”

“The real thing!” Charles assured him as they entered the elevator. “Except the t-shirt doesn’t complain when I drool and bite.”

“That _is_ an advantage,” Erik agreed, his lips brushing Charles’s hair. “Put some chapstick on.”

Charles gave a put-upon sigh but pulled the tube out of the bag and applied it. He liked the smell and the feel of it, rubbing his lips together to find them silky smooth. Then he had to apply more chapstick.

“Stop,” Erik finally told him, taking the lip balm away over Charles’s protests. “I should have known that was a bad idea.” Charles cuddled the t-shirt again and glared at its owner, who was always stopping Charles from doing things that felt nice, for silly reasons.

Except when Charles was stopping _him_ , because Charles was so responsible, just like Erik wanted him to be! Abruptly Charles embraced Erik, feeling more kindly disposed to him. Erik rocked slightly under the attention but rubbed Charles’s back gamely.

“We’re going somewhere nice and quiet, Schatzi,” Erik assured him, which was really more Erik’s fantasy than Charles’s, but Charles let him go on about it. “With no people and no one around to bother us. Just the two of us.”

“I like being with you, Erik,” Charles told him, because sometimes he wasn’t sure if it was obvious.

“I like being with you, too,” Erik promised, which made Charles feel warm all over, and slightly light-headed. Erik could have anyone he wanted, but he had picked Charles!

Well, Erik’s parents had picked Charles. A long time ago. But Erik was very stubborn and resourceful, Charles was sure he could have figured out how to break the contract if he’d wanted to. Only if he’d done that, Charles wouldn’t get to see Mutti anymore. Tears pricked at his eyes and his nose stung.

“I miss Mutti!” he announced moistly, quite randomly from Erik’s point of view.

Erik rolled with this, towing Charles out of the elevator onto the parking level. “Call her,” he suggested, heading for the car.

“No, I don’t want to upset her,” Charles decided, wiping his tears away with the t-shirt.

“I’ll get that thing stuffed for you,” Erik teased, putting Charles in the passenger seat of the car.

“I don’t want it stuffed, I just want _you_!” Charles insisted, once Erik had gotten in. “Why didn’t we have sex before? That was really dumb. I can’t believe I rejected you, Erik!” Erik was beautiful and smart and kind (in his way) and took such good care of Charles, couldn’t Charles have given him just a _little_ bit of sex? After he’d led him on, too! “I’m so sorry, Erik!” Charles sobbed. “Do you want me to get you off before we leave?”

“Wow. No. Thank you,” Erik added briskly, starting the car. “Once we get to the house we’ll do things properly, alright?”

“Okay,” Charles sniffled. “Don’t hit the squirrel, Erik!” Erik stopped the car in time and waited for the creature to bound away. “Oh look, he’s got a chicken bone! That’s so cute!”

“Rats with fluffy tails,” Erik muttered, continuing down the street. “You know what I love best about heat? Mood swings.”

“I think they’re rather annoying myself,” Charles countered, cuddling his t-shirt since the real thing was driving. “What shall we do now, Erik?” he asked as the city passed by them. “Can we listen to the radio? I can sing along!”

“No,” Erik denied, which was not a surprise. “Why don’t you watch your fish movie?”

Charles rolled his eyes at this suggestion. “I just watched it yesterday, Erik!” That was too soon even for Charles.

“Well, watch something else, then,” Erik told him. Charles would rather watch Erik drive, he was so confident and thus sexy. “How about your car movie?”

“It’s called _Cars_ , Erik!” Charles was beginning to suspect Erik knew this already and was just teasing him, which was a nice feeling. “The Blu-ray is in every location I visit! It’s accessible on every screen we have!”

“Well access it then. With headphones,” Erik added.

Charles turned his phone on, then back off. “I don’t feel like watching a movie,” he decided restlessly. “I’d rather read. Why didn’t we bring a book or something?”

Erik turned to stare at him for some reason, then sighed, “G-d!” like Charles was the most ridiculous thing _ever_.

“Oh, you’re right,” Charles realized. “Sometimes I get sick when I read in the car.” Better not chance it, the way his stomach was feeling. “What would _you_ like it best if I did, Erik?” Charles asked, trying to be unselfish and responsible. “Probably be quiet and still for the whole trip.”

Erik chuckled at this, a bit too knowingly. “Still, yes,” he agreed. “Don’t flail around while I’m driving.” Charles did not think he _flailed_. That brought to mind images of Kermit the Frog freaking out. “But you don’t have to be quiet,” Erik went on, surprising Charles slightly. “I like talking to you. But not singing along to the radio,” he repeated, when Charles opened his mouth to suggest exactly that again. Which Charles thought was a little unfair, but when you were being unselfish and responsible, sometimes you had to make sacrifices.

“Okay. I’ll tell you what I did at school yesterday, I don’t think I ever told you,” Charles decided. He couldn’t remember why not. “So when I first got to school I saw Hank and…”

**

Charles chattered for a while, which Erik found soothing in a Zen sort of way, and then he took a nap. After a bit the car filled with the scent of a contented Omega, like an apple pie baking in the oven. He was quite close now, Erik thought. When the scent got a little spicier, heavy on the cinnamon, that’s when Erik thought he’d be ready. Erik had been thinking about it a lot since the last heat and had decided he took a lot of emotional cues from Charles’s scent, so it was best to identify the different versions. Though Charles’s moods sometimes changed too fast for his scent to keep up.

Erik did not stop for lunch, but rather pulled over into a store parking lot to grab one of the granola bars from Charles’s bag, and then he kept on going. There would be plenty of food at the house and he wasn’t feeling especially hungry—the tension was rising in his body, the Alpha instincts taking over as he anticipated what his Omega would need.

He pulled into the driveway of the house finally, and reached over to give Charles a shake. “Wake up, Schatzi, we’re here.”

Charles whined and tried to roll over—his usual response to being awakened—but then realized he wasn’t in bed and sat up more. “Oh, we’re here,” he repeated blearily.

“Yes.” Erik opened the garage door and pulled the car in, an intense desire to make sure his Omega was safe inside the walls almost overwhelming him.

Charles seemed oblivious to this. “Good, I have to go to the bathroom,” he announced, opening his door.

Erik clamped a hand down on his wrist, startling them both. He had to take a breath before he spoke, to make sure the right words came out, and the space darkened around them as the garage door shut firmly. “Use the powder room on the first floor,” he told Charles. “And stay in there until I get you.”

Charles rolled his eyes but Erik wouldn’t let him go until he’d agreed. “Yes, okay, Erik!”

“Thank you.” Erik released him and got out to unlock the door to the house, taking a good look around before he allowed Charles to enter. Once the Omega was safely contained in the bathroom, Erik prowled around the entire house, checking doors and windows. He could smell that a Beta had been here recently, presumably the estate manager—he’d left a note and fresh flowers on the kitchen table, _and_ stocked everything Erik had asked for. That was service.

Then Erik brought the bags upstairs and put a few things out, like their toothbrushes, and the food he’d brought. Then he did a survey of the available provisions and transferred some food and drinks to the mini-fridge in the bedroom. Then he remembered who he was doing all this preparation _for_ and went back to the powder room.

Charles was leaning against the sink, watching _Cars_ on his phone. “I’m on Act Two, Erik!” he claimed. “Did you have to fight a bear?”

“Yes,” Erik deadpanned, “but it’s okay, I won.” Charles laughed, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling in the light. _This_ was all Erik had wanted, a heat with no bruises, no memory loss, no trauma—so he could kiss those red lips, and count every single freckle, and try to make up for all the time he hadn’t had Charles in his possession.

Charles saw the way Erik’s gaze was strafing him, and slowly stopped laughing. “I interrupted us before,” he remarked, panting a little. His eyes flickered across Erik’s face. “Because I was trying to be responsible.”

“Which was very sexy,” Erik acknowledged, starting to crowd him in the small space.

“But I think that’s enough responsibility for the moment, don’t you, Erik?” Charles’s hands began to slide over his chest and shoulders.

“Yes, I think so,” Erik replied evenly. “You wouldn’t want to pull a muscle.” Charles flashed a grin at this, and Erik twitched a little with the strain of _not_ touching him. Instead he leaned down to purr in Charles’s ear. “Did you say you liked it when I growled?”

Charles moaned involuntarily. “Yes!”

“Put your phone down,” Erik murmured. Charles fumbled with it and Erik backed away, giving him access to the doorway. “If you run, I might chase you,” he warned, in the same low voice, cataloging every muscle in Charles that tensed in anticipation of flight. “But I won’t hurt you. Try not to run into anything.” He had a feeling his cautions were wasted on Charles, however, who was getting increasingly glassy-eyed and cinnamony. “You ready?” He nodded frantically, and Erik rolled a growl up from the base of his throat, curling his lip a bit in a snarl. Charles’s eyes widened, and then he took off, straight upstairs to the bedroom, with Erik only a few steps behind. Which seemed like a very promising start.

**

The world was a haze of warm apple cinnamon for Erik right now, like being inside a giant apple pie, only sexy, and not with any risk of drowning or burning to death. Physically anyway, metaphorically was another matter—

Erik decided to give up on his thoughts making much sense now.

According to his cell phone, when he stumbled over to the table to check it during a rare moment of lucidity, they had been here about four days; he figured another solid day, then it would taper off to recovery. This heat had been much more frenzied than the first, all want and need and desire and desperation, with occasional breaks for food and showers and clean sheets. Definitely no time for phone calls or emails. He’d barely even thought about the outside world until now—and even then it was only a fleeting thought, as he lay in bed watching Charles sleep, fingers stroking softly through his hair.

His nose didn’t quite seem to fit his face; Erik drew a finger down it lightly. Charles could be a little self-conscious about it, but Erik thought it was the only thing that saved him from being too adorable to take seriously. Even when he was little, and couldn’t say R’s right, and jaunted through life as his parents’ golden prince, at least his nose kept him from being too disgustingly cherubic.

Erik had not liked him at first. What twelve-year-old wanted to be handed a six-year-old, a _baby_ , and told that this was now the most precious thing in his life, to be guarded and cared for? Erik’s weekends were spent babysitting Charles; if he wanted to see his friends, usually Charles had to come along. At holidays, Charles invaded his family celebrations, or Erik was sent off to Charles’s, surrounded by strangers who called themselves his _new_ family.

As a teenager Erik finally got permission to date other people—Alphas or Betas only, never Omegas, and always with the understanding that these relationships were only casual and temporary. Sometimes the “dates” consisted of babysitting Charles, which Charles didn’t seem to mind, maybe because he was too much younger to care.

Once he got older Erik was too busy to date anyone, as his father’s health declined and Erik took over running the company. And then there was the washing machine incident, after which Erik had looked at Charles with new eyes, and never at anyone else again.

It felt like it had taken forever to get here—eleven years, almost half of Erik’s life. Almost two-thirds of Charles’s. He might not even remember a time before Erik, which made Erik swell with a primal, proprietary feeling totally at odds with his considered, intellectual thoughts about child bonds—namely, that he would never impose them on his _own_ children. Because he didn’t think it possible to _build_ another match like him and Charles—he wasn’t that good an engineer.

Moving carefully so as not to wake his Omega, Erik slipped from the bed and padded over to the mini-fridge, pulling out protein shakes for both of them. There had not been any cooking in the kitchen so far; Erik had only been down there to retrieve more food. Though, in an act that would make his caveman ancestors proud, he had managed to brew some coffee and make Charles some iced raspberry lattes, which were indeed the _only_ thing he would eat without protest. Eons ago cave-Erik might have waded into the icy stream to catch a certain fish (cave-sushi?) or hunted down some rare birds’ eggs for his picky Omega. He felt it was the same spirit, anyway.

Right now was not raspberry latte time, though; right now was when Erik left Charles’s protein shake next to him in bed, in case he woke up, and took his own into the shower, so he could multi-task and spend less time away from his Omega. Cleanliness was important.

Erik sensed movement in the room and ducked his head out of the shower stall to see Charles stumbling sluggishly towards the toilet. A few minutes later the Omega joined him under the water, leaning heavily against Erik as though the Alpha was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Drink this,” Erik ordered, tipping the remainder of his protein shake into Charles’s mouth. The Omega gurgled a protest but swallowed most of it, then collapsed back into Erik’s arms. Erik turned the water temperature down and positioned Charles under the spray, gently washing off his sticky skin, mindful of the minor cuts and bruises he was now sporting. Erik had just as many, and considerably more with teeth marks. Even now he could feel Charles nibbling idly just below his collarbone.

“Turn around,” Erik warned, pushing Charles into the proper position to wash his front. The Omega stretched and relaxed back against Erik.

“I’m going to do your hair now.” This was always less successful, and accompanied by sputterings and grumbles and whines that Erik had gotten soap in his eyes. But obviously the idea that Charles could do any of this for himself was just ludicrous.

“I’m going to put you in the tub for a while now,” Erik declared, and did so, filling it partway with lukewarm water. Charles had not seemed sore yet and Erik was feeding him Tylenol regularly; he was afraid he would be very uncomfortable once his hormones rebalanced. “Drink this.” He pressed some of Charles’s own (unopened) protein shake into him.

Charles wobbled his head around and gazed up at Erik with slightly unfocused blue eyes. “Thank you, Erik,” he said, smiling, before he started to nod off. He jerked his head back up to keep himself awake and sloshed around a little. “Did you eat? Should I make eggs?”

Erik smiled at him and encouraged him to lie back. “You can make me eggs later,” he planned. “I’m going to change the sheets, then I’ll come get you. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay. Thank you, Erik,” Charles repeated woozily. Trail mix would have to suffice for the time being.

**

Erik knew it was over when his head cleared enough to wonder what the stock market was doing. Around that time Charles started flailing and squealing, desperate to get away from the bed full of heat scents but also terribly cold. Erik had anticipated this, however, and he had a plan.

“Okay, Schatzi, you’re alright,” he assured Charles, scooping him up and heading for the bathroom.

“I’m _not_ alright, Erik!” Charles protested. “I feel awful!” As if suddenly realizing his tone was not particularly romantic, he added, “But I still love you, Erik! Only I’m rather sore everywhere. Aren’t you putting me in the tub?”

“No,” Erik replied, standing him up in the shower. He turned the water on, trying to point it away from Charles as it was cold at first. The indignant shriek said he had not been entirely successful. “Get cleaned up and I’ll have a surprise for you.”

“Is it another protein shake?” Charles asked without enthusiasm, testing the water warily.

“No, I will be making you some real food whenever you get hungry.” Erik had things to do—putting Charles in the shower was partly to keep him out of the way—but he still kept standing there, watching the water sluice off his back.

Charles smirked at him over his shoulder, a breathtaking expression that thoroughly distracted Erik. “We’ve just spent _days_ having sex, Erik!” he teased. “How many days?”

“About six.” He really needed to be back for the subcontractors’ meeting in a couple days, if Charles could be left at home with Mrs. Malloy.

“Don’t think I’m going to be ready for more for a bit,” Charles judged. Nonetheless he seemed to be rubbing himself with soap in a slightly obscene way, and laughed when Erik blinked and shook himself.

“Get clean,” Erik ordered, turning away. “I’ll bring you some clothes.”

Erik retrieved some clean pajama pants, socks, and a t-shirt and left them in the bathroom for Charles. Then he got the nest-bag down from the shelf in the closet and unfolded it carefully, trying to touch it as little as possible to avoid contaminating scents. He laid it out on the couch and plugged it in to warm up, imagining with satisfaction that he’d killed a bear—a polar bear!—and skinned it to make a blanket for his Omega. In this case, a green plaid polar bear, so it had probably been easy to find.

Then he realized Charles hadn’t come out yet and went back into the bathroom to remove him, shutting off the water over his protests. “It’s too cold out there, Erik!” Charles insisted, beginning to shiver and curl in around himself.

“You can’t stay in the shower stall,” Erik denied anyway, patting him down with a towel. “I said I had a surprise for you, remember? It’s a _warm_ surprise. Can you get dressed?”

“Yes!” Charles insisted fussily, struggling with the clothes. Erik stood back, restraining himself from helping, as Charles got the t-shirt on backwards and nearly tripped over the pants.

“Do you want the socks—?” Erik suggested, and stopped when Charles sighed with utter exhaustion. “Forget the socks,” Erik allowed. “You’ll be warm enough.” He picked him up again.

“Erik, what are you going to do when you can’t carry me anymore?” Charles asked sleepily as Erik carried him out. “When I’m too fat, or you’re too old.”

“I was planning to hire a beefy manservant,” Erik deadpanned, and Charles hiccupped a laugh.

“I knew you had a plan,” he claimed.

Erik stopped before the couch, proudly showing Charles what he’d arranged. “See? There it is!”

Charles did not get it. “Is it a sleeping bag?” he inquired. “Like I’m camping in the woods. How…” Long pause. “…cozy.”

Erik laughed at his attempt at a compliment. “It’s more than that, Schatzi,” he assured him, tucking him into the bag.

“I’m sure a sleeping bag is lovely, Erik—Oh!” Charles realized as Erik zipped him in. “It’s so warm!” He wriggled all around inside the bag, finding it snug but not constricting.

“It’s like an electric blanket,” Erik explained. “I’ve set it on low, let me know if you get too warm—“

“Can you turn it up?” Charles requested, squirming around on his side to curl up.

“Sure.” It had an auto shut-off after twenty minutes anyway, so Erik could check on Charles before reactivating it. “And I have something else for you!” Erik went over to his suitcase and pulled out Charles’s stuffed fish, which he had tucked away secretly. “It’s Nemo! I thought you might want him now—Charles?”

Upon closer inspection Erik could see he was already fast asleep in his toasty cocoon, and Erik smiled in what he feared was a sappy way. But really, there was nothing more satisfying than a contented Omega. Erik unzipped the bag enough to tuck Nemo into Charles’s arms, then sealed him back up. He would be fine for a while. And now, Erik had some cleaning to do.

**

Some time later, both Erik and the house were reasonably clean, and he was in the kitchen making some spaghetti. Charles had been transferred to the living room couch, still totally unconscious but apparently in no distress. The smell of the sauce made Erik’s mouth water, even though he’d already eaten two deli meat sandwiches. This was only their second heat; he would find a balance in taking care of them both soon.

He heard a noise from the living room, a sort of squeaky moan. “Charles?”

Another muffled exclamation, which sounded remarkably like, “Nemo!” and Erik smiled a little, leaving the food to lean in the doorway.

Charles was moving around in his nest-bag. “You brought Nemo!” he commented in delight, a big grin on his face.

Erik couldn’t help answering it. “I thought you might miss him.”

“You had him in your suitcase the whole time?” Charles cuddled the toy inside his bag. “You’re so sneaky, Erik! And sweet!” he added hurriedly, as Erik chuckled. “Terribly sweet.”

“Are you ready to eat something?” Erik asked.

“Yes, I’m starving!” Charles exclaimed, which was all that Erik had been waiting to hear. Then Erik struggled not to laugh as Charles began the awkward process of trying to get up. Erik waited a bit too long before jumping in to help, earning some frustrated but, to Erik’s hormone-addled brain, adorable noises and glares.

“Stop, don’t get tangled in the cord,” Erik warned. “Let me unplug you.” That sounded so absurd that he had to snicker as he pulled out the cord.

“I can unplug myself, Erik!” Charles insisted petulantly.

Erik ignored this. “See, the cord coils up on the back here,” he explained, corralling it neatly. “It’s called a nest-bag. Do you like it?”

Charles relaxed a little. “Yes, it’s very warm and comfortable,” he conceded. “And, you brought me Nemo!” he remembered, perking up a bit.

“That’s right,” Erik agreed. “And I’m making you some spaghetti.”

Charles made a hungry noise. “Can you bring me a plate right here?” he pleaded. He wiggled his arms inside the bag, as if to illustrate his utter helplessness. “And feed me!”

“As much as that does appeal to me,” Erik admitted reluctantly, and Charles laughed knowingly, “the nest-bag is designed to give you some mobility.” He felt for Charles’s feet at the bottom. “Come on, see if you can find the holes—“

Charles leaned over precariously to look and Erik pushed him back upright. “Oh, it has feet, like footie pajamas,” he realized. “How clever.” He squirmed his feet around and, with some help from Erik, who only got kicked a couple of times, worked them into the attached socks. “So now I can walk,” Charles noted. “But I still can’t _eat_ , Erik!”

“Ah.” Erik held up the attached sleeves, which flopped uselessly at Charles’s sides as he twitched. “There should be holes inside,” he advised Charles. “They’re sealed with Velcro—“

“Where? I can’t find them!” Charles was easily frustrated in his current mood. “Erik! I’m so hungry! Why won’t you feed me?”

Erik took a deep breath and told his Alpha lizard brain that this was the twenty-first century, and Charles did not need to be literally spoon-fed. “The holes are up by your shoulders, Schatzi,” he said evenly. “Like the sleeves would be on a regular shirt. Come on, you can find them.”

Charles wriggled around some more and finally pushed his way through the flaps and got his arms into the sleeves. “Wow, that’s so neat, Erik!” he decided, mood flip-flopping again. “They’ve thought of everything! They just sell these?”

Erik pulled him to his feet. “Yes, there’s several different designs,” he described, leading Charles into the kitchen. He could only take short steps due to the footie position on the bag. “And different colors.” He put Charles in a chair at the counter and brought him some milk. “One of the bags looked like a giant penguin, but that was too infantilizing, even for me,” he said dryly, and Charles laughed.

“Maybe if they had a clownfish!” he suggested.

“Did not see any fish,” Erik noted, dishing up some spaghetti. Hurriedly he tucked a dishtowel into the bag’s collar, as Charles began stuffing his face with the spaghetti as soon as it was within reach. “Easy there, don’t choke.”

For several minutes there was only companionable chewing. Then Charles observed, “It was different this time.”

Erik assumed he meant the spaghetti. “The estate manager got a different sauce than I normally use,” he agreed. He was trying to ignore it, because he didn’t want to micromanage.

Charles rolled his eyes. “No, the _heat_ ,” he clarified. “That’s more how I thought it would be, without much… thinking.”

Erik chuckled. “Definitely more focused,” he agreed, trying to be tactful.

“Animalistic!” Charles teased, growling playfully. “At the mercy of our bestial natures!”

Erik could not deny that. “I’m going to look you over for damage later,” he planned. “Does anything in particular hurt?” Of course, he tried to be careful, but when one was especially… _focused_ , it was easy for a hand to slip or a grip to tighten, unnoticed by either until later.

“Well yes, something _in particular_ hurts,” Charles complained, and Erik couldn’t help smirking a little. “Only I distinctly remember not caring about that earlier,” he admitted readily, “and I think this bag will help quite a lot. And all the times you put me in the tub,” Charles went on appreciatively. “Can you plug me back in? I’m getting cold. Is there more spaghetti?”

“Yes, and yes,” Erik agreed, passing Charles his own half-empty plate and getting up to search for the nearest outlet. “I’ll charge you up right next to the cell phones,” he added with amusement.

Charles snickered naughtily. “There’s so many directions I could go with that!” he declared, unable to pick one. He had more important things on his mind than double entendres, though. “Can I have more to drink? Can I have a raspberry mocha? Hot, please. Is there more spaghetti?”

Erik took both empty plates away and reloaded one. “Are you actually eating all this yourself,” he asked, “or are you slipping it to Nemo?”

“Nemo only eats seaweed, Erik!” Charles claimed, slurping up a spaghetti noodle. Erik made Charles’s (decaf) coffee drink for him, then could bear it no longer and took a wet cloth to wipe the sauce from Charles’s face.

“I’m not five, Erik!”

“Well don’t eat like you are, then,” Erik shot back, wiping Charles’s hands as well. He was unable to tell if Charles was really offended, but also didn’t care that much. He thought he heard Charles grumble something rude into his coffee but chose to ignore it. “You’ll be out cold soon, with all those carbs,” he predicted, sipping his own coffee.

Charles’s mood became buoyant again. “Will you put on _Finding Nemo_ for me to watch?” he requested.

“While you sleep?” Erik replied dryly. “Why don’t you just imagine it? I’m sure you have the whole thing memorized.”

“Erik!” Charles whined, in that frequency that in their caveman ancestors surely indicated something much more important, from the way Erik felt compelled to react. “I’m tired, and I’m sore, and I’m cold, and I just want to watch _Nemo_ —“

“Okay,” Erik agreed, springing into action like a good Alpha.

“Erik, don’t unplug me!” Charles gasped with horror, as Erik did so. “I’m not warm enough yet—“

“I’m just moving you into the living room,” Erik assured him, herding him along. “Do you want to go to the bathroom first?”

The answer was always a yes there, so Erik unzipped the bag and helped Charles extricate himself near the powder room. “It’s cold! It’s so cold!” Charles moaned, but Erik had faith that he would do what needed to be done. Meanwhile Erik arranged the nest-bag on the couch and plugged it back in, and set about finding a screen that would play the fish movie. Nemo watched him from inside the bag, mocking Erik’s attempts to sync his phone with the TV.

At last he got it to work, and then paused it as he realized Charles had not yet reappeared. “Charles?” Erik rapped on the bathroom door. “You okay?”

“Erik!” Charles called pitifully, and Erik immediately opened the door. His Omega was curled up on the floor, shivering. “I’m so cold!” he added, in case that wasn’t obvious.

Erik was curiously unmoved, perhaps because even his lizard brain understood it was 72 degrees in here, and thus not the frozen tundra. “Did you pee?” he checked.

“Yes!”

“Did you wash your hands?”

“Erik!” Charles sobbed helplessly, and Erik gave in. Really there was no question of _if_ , just _when_.

“Okay, Schatzi, come on.” Charles refused to stand or indeed move in any way, so Erik was forced to slide him across the tile floor until there was enough room to pick him up. “Have I ever mentioned,” he remarked casually as he carried Charles back to the warm bag, “what a f-----g load of trouble you are?”

“I couldn’t survive without you, Erik!” Charles declared, cuddling into him just when Erik was trying to put him down. It was sweet for a second, then Charles felt the unnatural warmth of the nest-bag below him and promptly abandoned Erik to slither into its heat, moaning obscenely.

“I think Alphas may have been replaced by electricity,” he grumbled, zipping the bag up around Charles and Nemo.

“No, I love you, Erik,” Charles insisted sleepily, squirming around. “What are you _doing_? Quit moving things—“ he added, not very lovingly.

“I am just turning the bag to match your position,” Erik explained, tugging on the fabric. “So you don’t suffocate.” Charles would happily sleep with his face buried in the hood but Erik didn’t think that was safe. “There. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you, Erik.” Charles was now curled up on his side facing the TV, a couch pillow beneath his head. “Is my movie ready?”

Erik did not think he would last two minutes, but he pressed play anyway. “Okay?” He stroked Charles’s hair, inhaling the somewhat narcotic scent of a full, warm, sleepy Omega coming down from heat. It was very tempting to lie down near him and take a nap… But no! Erik had very important things to do and he pushed himself to his feet. “Now just, uh, stay there, Schatzi,” Erik cautioned, finding it rather unlikely Charles would move.

“Okay…” Charles agreed, the word slurring by the end. Erik waited a few seconds, then was about to shut off the movie so he wouldn’t have to listen to it while he cleaned up the kitchen. “Nemo,” Charles said distinctly, possibly in warning or possibly just in his sleep, and Erik decided it was more prudent to leave it on.

**

Charles slurped the iced raspberry mocha Erik had made him for the road, alternating it with a muffin that dropped crumbs all over the car. They were headed back to the city, back to school and work and their regular lives, plus all the stuff that had been abruptly abandoned for Charles’s unexpected heat.

“Are you going back to work tomorrow?” Charles asked Erik idly.

“Yes.” Then Erik glanced at him, checking his reaction. “Do you feel okay staying home with Mrs. Malloy? I don’t think you should go back to school yet.” Charles claimed to not be sore, but Erik was convinced it was going to hit in a day or two.

“I guess,” Charles agreed without enthusiasm. “I just don’t like missing school!” He actually _liked_ school, which Erik could not relate to as he had merely tolerated it. “Unless you were home with me?” he checked hopefully, but Erik shook his head.

“Sorry, Schatzi. I’ve got a meeting of—“ Erik stopped abruptly, remembering how his father used to talk about the business when it took him away from his family. It somehow never made Erik feel better. “People are depending on me,” he said instead. “But, there are some things I really want to do soon, like go to the lake with Peter—“

“Yes!” Charles confirmed excitedly. “Soon, before it’s too cold to swim!”

Erik looked at him askance. “I’m not letting you swim in the lake, it’s full of pathogens—“

Charles just looked at him and laughed. “Pathogens and fish poop, right, Nemo?” he asked his stuffed fish, brushing some crumbs off his snout.

Erik tabled that for now, a strategy which had taken him far too long to learn. “And we should have a movie day,” he went on, the idea sparking his interest more than he’d anticipated. “Get some popcorn, pizza, just watch movies all day.”

Charles started to suggest some eagerly. “Like—“

“No Pixar,” Erik specified. “No cartoons. Movies with _real_ people in them.”

“Half the characters in _Lord of the Rings_ aren’t real, Erik!” Charles protested. “Gollum is exactly the same level of real as Buzz and Woody.”

“No cartoons,” Erik reiterated firmly. “You may have your own veto power,” he allowed generously.

“No courtroom dramas!” Charles demanded. “No boring _talky_ things!”

“Action-adventure it is, then,” Erik determined. “That’ll be fun.” Although he had certainly _enjoyed_ his last few days with Charles, he’d missed talking to him, just doing ordinary things like watching movies.

“I want you to help me organize my collectibles,” Charles announced, happily thinking of new activities to do with Erik. Of course in this case, Erik was not so quick to agree—‘collectibles’ was merely a polite term for the random c—p Charles accumulated, which sentiment prevented him from discarding.

“I’m not doing it _for_ you,” Erik warned.

“No, you’d throw out too much,” Charles agreed. “You’re just so good at keeping me _focused_ , Erik—oh, was that a groundhog? Weird! They’re kind of scary-looking—“

Erik rolled his eyes, but fondly. “We could have a shopping day,” he suggested, a bit painfully. “I could use some new shirts and ties—“

“And you want me to help?” Charles jumped in excitedly. “Oh, there’s some really lovely things coming out for fall. I think you’d look so good in pumpkin, or maybe russet…” He squinted at Erik as though picturing him in shades Erik couldn’t even comprehend. Charles’s fashion sense was a little more adventurous than Erik usually liked to be, but it made him so happy to pick things out.

“Everyone can tell when you’ve dressed me,” Erik claimed. He made this sound like a complaint but knew Charles would be thrilled. “I can’t start a d—n meeting until someone’s acknowledged the purple shirt or _pocket square_.”

The Omega clapped his hands in glee. “You look so handsome in the purple shirt,” Charles assured him. “And the Kelly green one. I’m going to go through your closet while I’m home and figure out where your deficiencies are,” he plotted, schemes whirring behind his eyes.

Erik feared he might have unleashed a power beyond his control. But that was hardly a new feeling, when dealing with Charles.


End file.
